


Vows

by divagonzo



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Auror Fic, Auror Partners, Complete, F/M, Gen, Minor Character Death, Weasley Family fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-23
Updated: 2015-11-21
Packaged: 2018-03-31 21:31:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 22
Words: 150,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3993565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/divagonzo/pseuds/divagonzo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>3 January 2002. It's Thursday morning at the Burrow and Molly has errands to run and a son to rouse from his slumber once she's back from buying groceries. Things are about to go sideways for the entire Weasley family. Romione, Hinny, and other canon couples Auror!Fic. Special guests in later chapters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction Music

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This is the prologue for the (almost) finished fic I’ve been working on for about a year. (9 months on the drawing board and 3 months writing and editing.) This isn’t my normal genre fic, but it’s a story I felt compelled to write.  
> Rated T for harsh language, some possible triggering situations, adult drama, and innuendo. But as the plot advances, I hope everyone sees how smut would detract from the plotline.  
> Finally, my thanks to the incredible and extremely talented Coyotelaughingsoftly for inspiration and bouncing story ideas off of for weeks on end. Her polishing skills are better than mine, and has a way of seeing deeper in people than I do. - DG

The dishes were in the sink, being scrubbed clean by the enchanted bristle brush. Pans were still cooling from the cooker while the oven was baking bread for dinner. The tea kettle was silent, having dispensed the hot water for the tea for the couple still living at home. It would be used later when another son finally woke after coming in after midnight.

Molly followed her husband to the fireplace, handing him a parcel for his lunch. After the kids moved out, she started cooking his favorites for his lunch. Today was roasted chicken on wholemeal loaf, with mustard and tomatoes. She threw in some apples too, now that most of the kids weren’t eating all of them before dinner every day. 

Arthur put on his heavy cloak, one that Harry and Ginny bought for him last year. Molly checked the poppers and buttons to make sure he was comfortable. He would leave via Floo to go into the office, but come home via apparition after stopping in at the store to see George. He was due back later today after his trip from Pakistan to purchase raw materials. 

“So when will you be home?” Molly inquired while folding over the collar on his robes. 

“Oh, maybe half four or so, unless someone gets ahold of George’s pranks and releases them on the Muggles again. I don’t see being any later than half five, though.” 

Molly offered her small smile. “Oh I hope not. I’d hoped to snuggle on the couch with you.” 

“I know. I don’t want to have to deal with that clean-up again.” Arthur picked up his dragon skin satchel and tucked the sandwiches in the bag. He still couldn’t believe the gift, from Charlie, of all people. But then George probably gave him the galleons to pay for it, along with the import duties from Rumania. 

Molly stepped up and kissed her husband on the cheek. “I’ll have dinner waiting when you get home. I’m going over to the market to get a few things for us tonight, and things for brunch on Sunday.” 

“If you keep cooking for him like you do, he’ll be miserable with camp food once he returns to work.” 

“Of course I am. I don’t know when I’ll see him again.” Molly stepped up and wrapped her arms around her husband. Maybe it was the cold January morning that made her act out some, hugging him and feeling a need of comfort on such a chilly morning. 

“It’s not like he doesn’t write often.” He kissed her forehead and looked at the brown eyes he’d loved for going on 30 years. “And he does come home as often as he can. You know how expensive international Portkeys are, especially on his salary.” 

Molly stepped back from her husband’s warm embrace. “I know. I just wish he was working closer, where he could come home more.” 

“Now Molly, you know he’s a man of his own choices. He loves his Dragons and since there hasn’t been an opening at the Welch Preserve in ten years, he can’t come home yet. At some point, he will, and we’ll be sick of him, eating us out of house and home and you complaining of washing his trousers.” He gave her a small peck on her nose. “It’s not like we’ll ever see him married, I reckon. He’s going on 30 and hasn’t brought anyone home in years.” 

Molly smiled at Arthur. He was the only one who could help her see the bright side of bad situations. 

“You’re right. I would, ‘cause he’d be here every chance he got to eat my cooking. Since he has only his dragons for company, it’s not like they will cook for him.” 

Arthur wrapped the scarf around his neck. “And that’s what I’m looking forward to once I get home this evening.” 

“Save your appetite. I’ll roast a chicken, along with buttered peas, gingered carrots and maybe some steamed cabbage.” 

Arthur leaned over and kissed Molly on the nose. “Are you trying to fatten me up?” 

“I think that’s a lost cause. I’ve been trying for 30 years now and you’re still too thin.” 

Arthur reached into the decanter for the Floo powder. “That’s not what you said last night.” He winked at her. 

Molly blushed at his cheeky comment. He’d been forcing her to blush for 35 years and it was still a beautiful sight to behold. 

He stepped into their fireplace and spoke in a clear voice, _Ministry of Magic._ He disappeared in a swirl of green flames, leaving Molly Weasley standing in their den with a deep red hue to her cheeks. 

“Oh, that man, I swear,” she grumped under her breath before returning to the kitchen to get her things ready to go into Ottery St. Catchpole for her shopping. Charlie could manage until she returned home with some provisions for lunch. 

She’d only be gone an hour, at most. 

* * *

“That’ll be eight galleons, 10 sickles, Molly.”

She handed over the coins to the shop keeper who put each of the items she purchased into brown butcher paper. “How many are coming over for lunch Sunday?” 

“Oh, I think everyone will be there. Charlie’s leaving for Rumania on Monday morning. He has to get back to work.” 

“I miss your kids coming in, getting chocolate frogs and ginger newts and other various sweets when they had a knut to their name. Your youngest son was the best, always saving his knuts to get a chocolate Frog. Bet he’s got so many now that he keeps a constant tummy ache.” 

Molly grinned. “They’ve all turned out pretty well, I reckon. It’s a rare wonder when Ginny has a day off to stop by and visit. The team and practice keeps her so busy. And Ron’s so busy with the Aurors, I barely see him or Hermione anymore.” She grinned. “And he does, really. Every time he’s over with the grandkids, he is giving them a chocolate frog from his pocket. You’d think he was conjuring them for Teddy and Victorie, way he gives them out to the kids.” 

“And the rest?” 

“George and Percy come around every week. I think they get hungry for real food instead of the takeaway they get in London. How anyone can survive on that rubbish baffles me.” 

The shop keeper finished wrapping the last of the ham which was going to be part of the Sunday brunch. “And the oldest one, the one I can never remember his name.” 

“You mean Bill? He’s leaving the country in two weeks for somewhere in South America. His job keeps him so busy.” 

“You mean like your husband whom I never see?” The shopkeeper cheeked. “Then again I do see Arthur on occasion at the pub down the lane.” 

“Well, there was an incident a couple of weeks ago. Someone enchanted a supply of stocking hats and when you put them on, you couldn’t get them off ‘til you said _Celestina Warbeck is the best singer._ ” Molly shook her head. “We asked George first but he said that was too cruel even for his joke lines.” 

The shopkeeper roared in laughter. “Poor Arthur. I know he was busy trying to track down that problem, I reckon.” 

Molly shook her head even harder. “He, along with a few people from the Law enforcement service tracked it down to some shady guy who sold a case of it to Gladrags. He stole it off a shipping container in Portsmouth and charmed it.” Molly frowned while trying to remember all the details Arthur shared with her that night. “The bloke in question screwed it up right. He got the charms wrong and it was Celestina Warbeck and not the Banshee screaming he was intending.” She snorted in disgust. “’Course since he was connected to someone else in the Ministry, he got 30 days suspended and had to pay restitution. Blasted Wizengamot went light on him even though he tried to hurt other people.” 

“Well, you can’t chuck them all into Azkaban for any little thing. We already had that and that was too high of a price. You know that there should be some discretion in the law.” 

Molly picked up the parcel from the counter. “I know, but it still bothers me when it’s only incompetence that protects others from harm. It makes absolutely no sense.” 

The butcher wiped his hands on the charmed towel around his waist. The grime from his work was banished away. “See you next week, Molly.” 

“Thanks Peter.” 

Molly stepped outside the butcher shop and adjusted the sack in her arms. Wood smoke floated over the lane of shops as well as the crisp wind of the chilly January winter. She strode up the lane to the apparition point – a concealed area in a small alley between the pub and the Apothocary. She’d apparate home, prepare lunch, followed with cooking the chicken for dinner, along with the parsnips and peas and salt the ham for Sunday. Charlie would be downstairs later and help her with the wash in the scullery as well as checking the posts of the fence on the other side of the orchard. 

Once Charlie returned to Rumania, she’d get her other sons to help with the chores around the house, as often as possible. Arthur was getting up there in years and wasn’t able to scale the rooftops to repair the wood shingles or mend the fence posts or other things that required a strong back or better eyes. No, Ron and Harry would help as much as possible, and so would Percy. All she had to do was ask. 

Molly turned the corner and made her way into the apparition zone, feeling the hum of magic wash over her as she walked through the concealment charm. Any muggles who might have seen her would assume she’d stepped into the pub for lunch, or into the side door for the chemist . The Ministry had been rather wise to set up a potent notice-me-not charm and Muggle repelling charms on this particular alleyway. 

Molly felt magic for a split second before she froze, dropping the parcel on the ground and spilling the contents. 

“Hello, little Molly. Fancy meeting you’re here,” she heard the haggard voice hiss in her ear. She couldn’t fight the hand that wrapped around her arm or the wand that was shoved harshly into the side of her neck. “You can’t scream, but if you could, you’d be long gone before help arrived.” 

An ugly face stepped in front of her and grinned malevolently. “Now come along. As long as you cooperate, I won’t hurt you. But I can’t get that sodding bastard of a husband to come to me if you’re not there with me.” She watched the wizard in front of her wield his wand in front of her face and around her neck. “Can’t have you running off the second we land, can we? Oh no, no, you are going to stay with me ‘til that asshole of a husband shows up and dies a pathetic death, courtesy of my wand.” 

He finished the wordless incantation but Molly felt the bile in her throat burn when she recognized the ancient Pureblood spell he inflicted on her. Only a few families remaining regarded such odious magic as a requirement. Arthur refused his family’s demands for such a spell, so many years ago. He would never compel her to be submissive. He said it was like chaining a dragon – abhorrent. 

The wizard released the binding spell on her and she gasped. She felt the conflicting magic dance over her skin and wind it’s way across her throat. She wanted to throw off the spell and had no clue how she could do it. 

“Oh, you can fight it all you want, little Molly.” She tried to step back from the fiend in front of her and couldn’t move through the wall behind her back. “No, you’re at my command until I release you from the spell you’re now under. Until I release it, you’ll do my bidding.” 

She tried to speak and no words came out. 

“Did you really think I’d let you talk, witch? Oh no, like a proper Pureblood witch, you will be silent unless I tell you to speak. Understand?” 

She shifted her hip and slapped him as hard as she could muster. The pain in her palm was a welcome respite from the constraining magical bonds wrapping tendrils around her mind and her magic. She glared with as much hate as she could muster at the tall unkempt man in front of her. 

He rubbed the side of his face before grabbing her throat and shoving her back into the wall behind her. Stars exploded before her eyes, a result of bouncing her head off of the bricks behind her. Rage crossed the man’s face, culminating in a nasty snarl. 

“Don’t you ever raise a hand to me again, or you will regret it.” He released her throat and she glared even harder. “Come along, Prewett. I have an Owl to dispatch to your husband at the Ministry before the end of the day. I can’t have him dithering when I’ve been waiting years for my revenge.” 

She crossed her arms in a façade of bravado. 

“I said come along, Mrs. Weasley.” He grabbed her arm in a vice. “I’ll introduce myself once we are away from prying eyes and other odious inferior people.” 

She refused to budge an inch, no matter how hard he tried to pry her from that spot. 

“Oh, how rude of me. You don’t know who I am, do you? Maybe I should introduce myself.” He stepped up even closer, forcing her back into the stone and brick behind her. “Not like you’d remember me, not when you were entirely too busy that night at Hogwarts. No, you’d not remember my face. It has been some time. But you won’t ever forget it again, will you?”

He grabbed her arm harshly and they spun from the alley in Ottery St. Catchpole, leaving behind the torn parcel of provisions. 


	2. Witches and Wizards

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ransom notes and reasons why the Weasleys are targeted...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who are sensitive to crime stories, you might want to avoid this second chapter, since _it has some triggering elements necessary to the plot_. Once again, **this is a smut-free story** since in my humble opinion, it will completely detract from the plot. 
> 
> The fic is still **Rated T** , for hard language, events on 2 May 1998, and adult situations.

* * *

Arthur Weasley opened the door to his department, bypassing the mountains of parchment on each desk. Then again, the department had three desks crammed into an office space fit for one. He tiptoed around all of the paperwork lying in stacks to get to his antique chair and the myriad of reports he needed to continue writing. The first reports, and subsequent follow-up reports to the Wizengamot were ongoing, consequences of a mass extermination plot he stumbled upon three weeks ago. It seemed innocuous on the surface – knit hats being sold at Gladrags – but it was only when you went outside below 5* that it stuck to the person’s head and started singing Celestina Warbeck in her worst voice.

The nefarious side of everything became evident when they tracked down the bloke who sold the lot to the proprietor of the shop and learned that the wizard in question had intended the hats to harm the people who had put it on their head. The twenty or so witches and wizards who had purchased the hats would have died had the inept defrauder in question performed the charm correctly, channeling a banshee’s wail instead of Celestina Warbeck. 

Her wailing was bad enough when he tried it out for himself. Molly certainly would be upset to hear her favorite singer being used to torment innocent people. So would the singer, more than likely. 

Thank Merlin that the bloke who was behind it was completely incompetent. He didn’t want the Ministry to deal with mass fatalities because of a cursed knit hat. Wizarding England had gone through enough traumas in the last few years that anything remiss put everyone on guard. The Muggle toys that were enchanted to spew fire were bad enough last Christmas. 

Alas, there were still quite a few feet of parchment to write this afternoon regarding the clean-up of the hat mess. If he was fortunate, he’d be home by 5 and he could take a walk with Molly before dinner – or a well-earned nap. Both would be nice especially after the late night he shared with her previously. 

An inter-office memo flew into the cubicle and smacked him right in the nose. “Blimey, never seen one that rude before.” Arthur picked up the folded parchment and unwound the string, seeing the waxed crest on the folding. “Strange,” he muttered before breaking open the seal. “Should I take this to MLS to make sure? Nah, it doesn’t look cursed.”

He scanned the elaborate handwriting and felt the cold wrenching in his gut tighten immediately. Arthur’s hands started shaking terribly at the words drifting across his decrepit eyesight. Terrible words stood out before his eyes: _blood debt_ and _demanding justice for my loss_ featured prominently on the crumpled parchment. 

“No,” he groaned at the implications of what was being told of the ransom demand. “Bloody hell, no. Not my Mollywobbles. Anyone but her,” he moaned. 

“Hey Dad.” 

Arthur gazed at his youngest son standing before him. Ron was in his office attire, trousers and a crisp shirt, courtesy of Hermione, as well as a blue tie and his boots. Arthur knew he needed to acknowledge his son before he could give away –

“What’s wrong?” 

Anything before it was too late. 

Ron stared at the parchment in his father’s hands and yanked it away from him. 

“Don’t. Give it back. He said no law enforcement.” 

Ron scanned the parchment and pulled his wand immediately. He recalled the happiest memory, which was from last weekend. Hermione’s smile drifted up – and the fact that she was only wearing a smile – and his Patronus manifested in the miniscule office. “Harry, get your arse up to Dad’s office now. Bring Robards and Williamson too. We’ve got a big bloody problem.” 

He sent off the Patronus and looked at his dad’s blanched face. “When’d you get this?” 

“It hit me in the nose about two minutes ago. I’d just gotten back from lunch with Percy at the Leaky Cauldron when it came in.” Arthur lifted his sack that still had the sandwiches in it, courtesy of Molly. “I went to lunch instead of eating in. I bet that’s why the note was impatient.” 

“And you have no idea otherwise? Why Mom? Why these demands? Why is he targeting you and Mum?” 

His dad shook his head before taking off his glasses and wiping them on his shirt. “I dunno what he’s talking about, frankly. I’ve not raised my wand in anger in years. Even when I have to go on a raid, I don’t raise my wand. The last time I did was the night at Hogwarts.” 

Ron scanned the document before him again and pieced together the puzzle before him. Hermione’d be pleased at his tactical prowess if the situation was less dire. “You’re not leaving the Ministry, at all. We’re getting involved and I promise you that we’ll get Mum back.” 

“But the letter said – “

“I know what the sodding letter said. But this bastard made it personal.” Ron scowled at the parchment in his hands, wishing he could incinerate it just with his mind. “I don’t give a rat fuck what he demands. He touched Mum and he’s fucked with the wrong bloody Auror’s family.” 

The door behind him crashed open and Harry barreled in, with the other two senior Aurors on his heels. “What the hell is going on?” He dropped his wand when he only saw Ron and Arthur in the room. 

“Shut it, Potter. I’m here so it’s my decision. Seal that door and explain.” 

Ron turned and pointed his wand at the door, locking and sealing it with Auror grade spells. He also added another layer, courtesy of Bill, where only someone with Weasley blood could now enter. “This came into Dad ten minutes ago. It looks legitimate.” He handed over the parchment to Director Robards who read it quickly. 

“This doesn’t get out, at all. If the press caught wind of Molly’s kidnapping we’d have a panic on our hands.” Vile epithets dripped off him lips. “Minister’s gonna have my wand for this one. We’ve not had a high profile kidnapping in years.” He waited for the other men’s acknowledgement. “Face it, Molly Weasley is high profile, especially in light of who she took down in single combat dueling.” 

The director turned to Arthur who was sitting in his chair, fiddling with his hands with a nervous energy that Ron’d never seen before. “Potter, you and Williamson go to Ottery St. Catchpole. Trace where she was between the time she left the house after Arthur left for work and now. You’ve got about six hours of backtrack, if what the kidnapper wrote is true.” He scanned the parchment again, looking for any further clues. “I estimate four hours via owl puts us in a range from the south coast, the East coast, and at a maximum, Bristol to the west, Birmingham to the North. I hope he’s not on one of the outer Islands, the ones hidden under enchantments.” 

Ron imagined the distance on the map and started muttering epithets to make his father’s ears burn. 

“Yes, I realize that’s a vast area to cover and try and track your Mum down. But if you don’t stop whining over there, I’ll throw you off the case. So shut it and we’ll work towards finding your Mum.” Director Robards squinted at the other two Aurors in the room. “Well, pull your thumbs out and get your arse out there. Find everything we can get to find where this fiend whisked Mrs. Weasley away to. Time’s a ticking.” 

Ron watched Harry grow stern before he and Auror Williamson departed for Ron’s home and hopefully find that it was a sick prank. 

“Weasley?” 

“Yes?” Two voices chimed in. 

“Arthur, I’ll need to notify Kingsley. Since Molly is his family too, he needs to know.” 

“But the letter – “

“Forget the letter. There’s a case of spanners in the works already. Ron knowing about it makes it a shambles. He’s and Auror but also family, which might be a loophole we can exploit to our advantage.” 

“But how?” 

“The letter said no Aurors. Ron’s family first, Auror second.” 

“Fair point.” 

“But we need to bring in others to help. I dunno how we can trace him if he’s evaded us these 3 ½ years without catching him.” Director Robards regarded at the junior Auror standing next to him. “Merlin knows that Weasley here is the one who has come closest to catching him and just evaded arrest because he killed two and escaped in the chaos.” 

“Well, there’s Hermione. I know she’ll be willing to help.” Robards turned his scowl on Ron and he held his ground. He was accustomed to harsh looks from the Director. 

Robards scrutinized Ron before turning to Arthur. “I’ll only bring in Granger as a last resort. She follows the regulations of the Wizengamot, not the Aurors. She’ll fight us every step of the way and I want this bastard in Azkaban.” He turned back to Ron and frowned further. “Granger isn’t my favorite person in the Ministry. She’s too enamoured with rules and regulations.” 

Arthur stood up and Ron took a step back. His father’s face was hideous, contorted in fear and anger. “I don’t care what you think, Gawain. She brought both of my boys home. Molly and I owe her our lives, for bringing the boys home, and we’ll never be able to repay her for her sacrifices. So you get her down here and put her talents to use finding my damn wife because I don’t care if she’s your favorite or not. She’s good at her job and if she can help, let her. But you find my wife, now.” Arthur leaned forward and Ron took another step back, thinking his father was going to breathe fire and torch them all. “If she dies because you held back your efforts, I will raise my wand against you. Understand?” 

The men were staring at one another while Ron watched on, refusing to say a word when it came to his wife’s possible help. He’d never admit that Hermione was a pain in the arse when it came to regulations, much like Percy acted, but she was also the best person for what they might need to help. If anyone could slog through information and come to a conclusion, she could. 

Mum’s life was at stake and he’d be arsed if he didn’t want to have all the help they could muster. 

Seconds ticked by, wasting away while the two men scrutinized at one another. Ron gripped his wand, anxiety dancing across his face. Worst case scenarios trickled through, each one worse than the last. 

“Fine. But if she steps on my toes too much, I’ll pull her off faster than you can say Quidditch.” 

Arthur scowled at the hardened Auror before him. “And I’ll pull rank with Kingsley. You don’t get to play office politics, not when it’s my wife who is missing.” 

“You don’t need to, Arthur.” 

The three men turned and saw Kingsley walking into the cupboard known as Arthur’s office. Following behind him was a very worried Percy Weasley as well as the Auror on duty. “The department secretary sent me an urgent memo seconds after Robards left the department.” 

Arthur sat down in his chair and put his head in his hands. Strands of ginger hair overflowed from his long fingers. “Merlin’s socks, this is buggered up worse than my cooking.” He contemplated the gathering around him. “Why can’t I just go to her and get my wife?” 

Ron stepped around his father’s desk and put his large hands on his knees, trying to look his father in the face. He felt the parchment disappear, courtesy of Percy. “If you honestly think that it’d do any good to go trade yourself for Mum, you’re barking mad. The bastard will not release Mum, and he’ll kill both of you.” Ron took one large sniff. “I already lost Fred. I nearly lost Harry and Hermione. I refuse to let some mad bloke hurt you and Mum too.” Ron turned from his father’s pale features and gave the Director and Minister a hard look. “You’ll have to kill me to get me to leave.” 

Percy nodded in agreement. “Me too.” 

“Thanks, Perce. Let’s get Mum back.” 

* * *

All of the men walked into the Auror department. Director Robards locked the doors and called the entire department present to his attention. Arthur sat down at the first desk, realization hitting him like two bludgers.

“Attention everyone.” All eyes stopped their work and swiveled to where he was standing. “Around 10am this morning, Molly Weasley was kidnapped. We have a ransom note for her, but the kidnapper in question isn’t asking for money or safe passage out of England.” Many a voice groaned at the implications. “We don’t know if she’s even still alive.” 

The gathering heard a choked sob from behind the director. Ron pulled a face, but kept his hands on his father’s shoulders, trying desperately to keep him from breaking in front of everyone. 

“But until we know otherwise, we’re treating this as an active kidnapping. As of now, Aurors Williamson and Potter are in Ottery St. Catchpole finding out as much as we can before we make another step.” 

“Do we know who kidnapped Mrs. Weasley?” a lone voice echoed from the back of the department. 

“Yes, we do. He’s on our Most Wanted list and has been since May 98. We kept him on there since we couldn’t confirm his demise. It appears that it was a wise decision.” Robards surveyed the gathering in the department, which was considerably less populated since the fighting ended that night in 1998. 

More looks were shared among the people in the room. The list was still notoriously long: Avery, Dolohov, Zabini, Lestrange, Rookwood, and another dozen or so who were linked if not inked. 

“Until we can find where the kidnapper is located, we’ve not got much to go on. I’ve come up with some ideas, but until we have some concrete evidence, we’re only wasting time running like kneazles chasing gnomes. I won’t waste resources chasing ghosts, not when the victim is still possibly alive.” 

“Sorry we’re late,” Percy announced quietly upon entering the department. Following him was Hermione, with a huge stack of ledgers in her hands. “My apologies, gentlemen,” she muttered while seeking out an empty desk. 

“Glad you could join us, Granger, Weasley. Took you long enough to arrive,” Robards pointed out. “Now that the brains of the bunch are here, we can get started.” 

Robards pulled out a huge map of South England, and dictated the scant information they had available. Each man in the room took their own notes while Percy and Hermione were still pouring over the tomes they brought with them. 

“Excuse me, but what is so bloody important in those books that you can’t wait until I’m finished talking? Pull your noses out and pay attention until I’m finished.” 

Percy and Hermione peeked up from the books and blushed furiously. “My apologies, sir. We’ll wait until you’re finished.” Hermione pulled out additional parchment and hastily scribbled notes onto the pad. 

“Now that everyone is on the same page, I will continue.” Robards pulled a face and went back to his own theories where the Aurors could look. 

For the next half hour, Robards dictated the information from the ransom note, along with what they knew of the kidnapper. His list of offenses and convictions took even more time. 

Only when Director Robards dismissed the gathering did he approach the two late arrivals. “So what is so bloody important that you stroll into our department without a care in the world, disrupt our briefing, and generally make a mockery of this important case?” 

Percy quit observing Hermione’s inspection of the tome on the desk, distilling page after page of indecipherable information before her. “Sorry, sir, but she had an idea and is looking for the information you actually need for this case.” 

Hermione never looked up but pulled another slip of parchment from the desk and slid it under the working quill in the air. The quill wrote frantically across the hovering parchment, never letting up the information she was scanning. 

“How the bloody hell is she doing that? If she’s using that particular spell, it’s restricted to only those who are employed in the Department of Mysteries.” 

“Sir, if you continue to talk, I won’t be able to find the information you need,” Hermione said brusquely. 

“Don’t talk to me that way in my department, Granger.” 

The quill stopped and Hermione flashed from the book on the desk in front of her. “Sir,” she said while dripping venom, “I’ve not using a spell from the Department of Mysteries. This is a dictation quill, available from Schrivenshafts, and I’m dictating to the pen non-verbally. That is the only additional charm I am using, courtesy of Professor McGonagall. I asked for this particular spell, from her, so I could do my work with House Elves. It’s useful for the work I do.” She scowled at the old Auror standing before her. “And for your information, sir, this is a property ledger. I procured it from the Archives and am currently scanning all property records information regarding the suspect in question. I would inquire with Gringott’s but since I’m not one of their _best_ customers, and I don’t have the Department of Magical Law behind my request, it might take a month for me to get the information I would be able to use. So, if you will excuse me, Director,” she hissed, “I have a thousand pages worth of property records to distill for you, so we can potentially find Mrs. Weasley.” She half smirked, but her eyes were still slitted, still angry at being interrupted. “Unless you have another report for me to take notes for which don’t help me do my job at all.” 

Hermione turned back to the tome in front of her and picked up the bent wand in her hand. The quill started frantically scribbling on the parchment while she was reading the entries. 

“And people wonder why I despise working with her. She’s got no respect for the chain of command in here.” Robards wished he could throw her out of the department already for her insubordination and insolence towards his authority. But it was either working with Granger or facing a hysterically irate Arthur Weasley along with the Minister. “Damn case is already in shambles and it’s only getting worse.” 

“Begging your pardon, Director, but if she can help, you can put aside your irritation until the case is finished.” 

Robards inspected the bureaucrat standing before him. Percy Weasley had changed since he first started working at the ministry going on 10 years ago. He’d grown a couple of inches, as well as more lines around his face and possibly some grey hairs on his head. He appeared old at the ripe age of 26. 

“And look who is talking, Weasley. You certainly had no problems working your way into Shacklebolt’s good graces once the Ministry was righted. Bet you’re a fair kisser to have gotten out of any incrimination after the Ministry fell a second time.” 

Percy frowned and reached for his shirt sleep, working diligently to pull up the sleeve on his right arm. The scars from his time in the Ministry during the Thicknesse rule puckered his skin. No healer could tend his wounds at the time and it was a harsh reminder of Umbridge’s discipline. “I paid my dues, sir, in blood and flesh. I was the worm in the Ministry at the time, the traitor to the right cause. So don’t question my loyalty to the Minister.” Percy turned on his heel and walked towards the Minister, who was still talking with Arthur. He stopped and scowled, imitating his father. “Furthermore, Director, I’m the reason half the Death Eaters are now in Azkaban. While I was working under the old regime, I took detailed records. I’m the reason why you know how many perished in Azkaban under Umbridge’s reign of terror. I’m the reason you know, mostly, how many died in that year before Harry saved all our arses. So don’t patronize me, sir, when it comes to who is important and who isn’t in this room. Stepping on those who you consider insignificant is why we had this mess this last time, before we barely escaped with our lives.” 

Percy stalked off, leaving Robards standing over Hermione who had ignored everything that transpired. 

“Bloody righteous Weasleys,” He muttered before stalking off towards Shacklebolt and Arthur on the other side of the department. 

“No, you’re not going to wherever he has Molly and that’s final. I will throw you in a cell downstairs if you don’t quit this nonsense.” 

“But Kingsley, he said – “

“I don’t care what he said. He’s not the one who is running the show and dictating terms. This is our fight and we shall fight it.” 

Arthur turned to Director Robards who joined the conversation. “Sir, is there any news yet from Potter and Williamson?” 

Robards studied the man in front of him. Arthur Weasley was a mid-level bureaucrat he’d had to work with a few times, but he didn’t rightly know the man. But looking at him, he knew he was more upset than he was letting on. His hands constantly moved, and it was irritating how he kept taking his glasses off his long nose and wiping them on the kerchief in his pocket. 

“No, they’ve not returned from Ottery St. Catchpole.” 

Robards stood there, stoic, while he watched the man sitting before him fight like hell to keep his sanity intact. He knew that the Weasleys were an old Pureblood family, and that they were also an aberration, having seven kids. If a man’s treasure was his children, he was rich as any old stodgy Pureblood family in the country. 

“Arthur, since Gawain is here, what can you tell us? Why would he target you and Molly? What happened that he’d resort to kidnapping her to fulfill a vendetta?” 

Arthur sat down in the chair at the empty desk and put his head into his hands. Tears dripped through his fingers while the men with him silently waited. 

“He should have gotten me, not Molly. She’d not done anything wrong. If anyone is to blame, I am.” 

Kingsley knelt down while giving Gawain a signal with his hands. The Director accio’d quill and parchment and set it to record via witness dictation. They’d need the information later for the Wizengamot, no matter how the case proceeded. 

“I’ve read the note and it sounds like bollocks to me. Maybe he’s just mad at the world and blaming you for his anger.” 

“No, he’s right,” Arthur lifted his head some but didn’t look his friend in the eye. “I did kill his brother and I have no regrets about doing it.” 

“Arthur?” 

“I’ll explain.” Arthur took a deep breath before looking at the shoes on his feet. 

* * *

_“It was the night of the 1st of May. The Castle had not been quiet in hours. The fighting in the ramparts had been hot, fierce, and utterly vicious. No matter where I turned, there was smoke, and ash, and blood everywhere. Bodies littered the hallways, along with other things that I needed sleep potions for months to cope with._

_“I sent Molly below, to help Pomona in the Hospital Ward. She was fierce with a wand but she was better tending those who were injured, and sick, and hurt. No, the fighting out in the castle was man’s work, even if there were children fighting as hard as the men. Too many bodies in the castle were mere children, boys and girls who I begged would wake._

_“Few did._

_“I saved all that I could, and that wasn’t enough._

_“Smoke burned in my chest, along with cramps in my wand arm. I lost count at the people who were down after the first barrage. I’d dueled the faceless for hours, throwing curses left and right. I knew some perished by my wand, while others escaped._

_“I took a moment of quiet, trying to quell the tattoo in my chest. I didn’t really realize how I was able to rescue the poor Slytherin student on one of the hallways below and get her to safety. I still don’t know how I did it. I don’t know how or why I survived those precious seconds dueling Bellatrix Lestrange. But then the night was still young, then, and it was far from over._

_“I still had a terrible burden, a duty to do, to go get Dora and take her bodily remains to safety. I’d promised Remus, in those quiet seconds before hell broke loose, that if anything happened to him, I’d look after Dora, Teddy, and Andromeda. Now, though, that promise was ash in my mouth, after seeing Tonks take a killing curse aimed for that nameless student. I fought like a demon, facing down that mad witch who killed her, who killed Sirus, until she scampered off to wreak havoc somewhere else in the castle. But the carnage had been done, leaving behind another orphan that, Merlin willing, I’d be able to raise as well._

_“It all depended on Molly and I living through the night. Given the circumstances, it wasn’t looking probable._

_“Another blast rocked the castle, closer this time to where I was standing. I ran towards the blast, which sounded like the grand stairwell. I made it to the railing and watched in horror as students and sections of stairs fall. All landed with a sickening crash below._

_“If I wasn’t so numb from the carnage and trauma from earlier, I might have been able to do more than just stand there in apathy. Even now, thinking about my lack of action makes me want to retch.”_

Arthur gazed at the gathered men and they patiently waited for him to continue. 

_“I heard a cackle from my right and turned. I saw a man dressed in black, wearing one of those Godawful masks, laughing at the injured students below. Children were hurt and probably dying and the bastard was laughing._

_“I watched in horror as the fiend lifted his wand and pointed it at one of the injured students. An unforgiveable curse flashed, green and full of fatality, hit one of the fallen in the chest. The boy, I don’t know his name but he had blond hair, fell back against the masonry, dead._

_“You bastard,” I yelled, and pointed my wand at the intruder. I watched my spell bounce off a hasty shield spell, ricocheting into the walls._

_“He attacked, spells flying fast, each one as lethal as the next. The night was too far gone to hold back from vicious attacks. No mercy was given and none was expected. I courted death as much as I did Molly. But then I heard a loud crash behind my assailant and he couldn’t be bothered, not when he was trying to kill me. All that mattered was that he wanted to take out a blood traitor, I reckon._

_“I threw a spell and watched the faceless wizard’s wand shatter in his hand. The wood fell apart and crumpled under his grip._

_“Before I could react, the other man took off running, trying to flee on foot without his wand in his hand._

_“‘Get back here,’ I yelled but gave chase to the wandless monster._

_I ran as hard as I could down the various corridors and somehow ended up off the main hallway, running towards the kitchens and Hufflepuff common room. I was having trouble breathing, with the acrid smoke and a stich in my side that wouldn’t let go. Blood pounded in my ears but I was determined that a child killer wouldn’t get away.”_

Arthur took a deep breath before continuing. 

_“I watched the cloaked figure turn the corner and seconds later, a hideous shriek. I stumbled to the corner, fighting to keep from passing out, but still stuck my head around the corner of the wall. I froze in sheer terror._

_“Whoever the masked man was, he was picked up in the pincers of a rogue Acromantula. “Please, save me!” the man shrieked in fear. “Kill him,” he begged further._

_“I heard a sickening crunch followed by another scream, this time full of pain and terror. I watched in revulsion as the enormous spider bit the man in the back, sinking his curved fangs into his shoulders._

_“Oh dear Merlin, please, Save me!’ I watched the spider sink his fangs in again, this time lower on his back. He shuddered in panic before yanking his mask off. ‘Bloody hell, it hurts!’ The spider bit him a third time and I watched some blood trickle out of his mouth._

_“It was so dark down there. I couldn’t tell who it was that I was supposed to save; only that it was a Death Eater. He’d killed children and he expected mercy from me. But I only saw a killer, not a man deserving of mercy. But my conscious demanded some mercy, even if it wasn’t what he prayed for._

_“I screwed up my face and gave him a hard look. ‘Mercy,’ I growled. I wove the wand in the correct form and watched the spell shoot from the end of my wand and hit the man square in the chest. I watched him fall limp into the spider’s grasp._

_“I didn’t stop the predator’s movements and watched the Acromantula carry off the fiend’s remains.”_

* * *

Arthur regarded the two other men before him. The quill finished transcribing his testimony. “So, you see, I did kill someone. But what is one man’s murder is another man’s mercy. It was the worst circumstances and I afforded a warrior’s mercy in the middle of a war.”

Arthur regarded at the two before him and felt the boulder off of his back. None of the rest of his children should have been burdened with what he did that night. None of his sons, including Harry, needed to know that he was a murderer. His act of mercy in the middle of the fighting, for another murderer, had Molly in danger. 

“So why is he blaming you for it? The poor wizard had only seconds left in his life, if he’d been bit three times by an Acromantula. You were kind enough to show mercy for a murderer.” Kingsley speculated about the situation with the other two men. “If I were in his shoes, I’d hope for that small measure of peace instead of a torturous demise.” 

Arthur wrung his hands. “But he still blames me for murdering his brother, regardless of circumstances.” 

Robards snorted. “That’s on his head, not yours. What else could have been done? The poor sod was dead, regardless, because of the Acromantula venom. 1 bite is fatal, and that’s if you have an antidote on you. Three is a death sentence.” 

Kingsley saw the troubled friend gutted with guilt and grief. “You did nothing wrong. You know that, right?” 

Auror Smythe stepped up the gathering. 

“Excuse me, Director, Minister. They’re back.”


	3. To Bring two people together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where the Aurors find out it's not a prank and the severity of the situation becomes apparent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My thanks to the reads and Kudos from Rustknight.
> 
> This is a crime story and there are some sensitive elements in it (but not necessarily this chapter, _per se_.) There are triggering elements in the previous chapters, for those who haven't started it, so if you have a question, ask away. They are necessary for the plot, sadly.
> 
> Once again, this is a smut-free story since in my humble opinion, it will completely detract from the plot.
> 
>   **Rated T** , for hard language and adult situations. If you have triggers, please email me and I will happily answer. - _DG_

* * *

Minister Shacklebolt and Director Robards turned towards the doors and saw Aurors Williamson and Potter coming towards them, their faces stern for the situation. 

“Minister,” Auror Williamson spoke up first, “It’s not a prank – far from it. Molly Weasley has been kidnapped. We interviewed several people and from what we gathered, she came into town for some groceries from the butcher shop in Ottery St. Catchpole. She purchased a roast and a ham and was inside the apparition point when she was accosted. 

“Another person found Mrs. Weasley’s spilled groceries and brought them to the butcher. We arrived moments after she came in and interviewed her as well as the butcher. The butcher, Peter Cain, said he had a strange fellow hanging around, usually on Wednesdays. Every time he looked up to ask the wizard a question, the wizard had left. He thought it strange but not enough to mention it to anyone.” 

Gawain took in the information but realized many important details were missing. “Did the butcher say what he looked like?” 

Williamson pulled his parchment from his pocket and checked his hasty notes. “No, nothing with any detail. He only said he looked swarthy, with some out-of-date clothes. He mentioned the bloke would only stay a moment before ducking out again and disappearing. He knew he wasn’t local, because he hadn’t seen him until a couple of weeks ago, but he never spoke with the bloke. He thought he might be an immigrant passing through but didn’t think much about it.” 

“Anyone else in the village see him recently?” Robards was losing his patience with the County Devon people. 

Harry spoke up. “There was a pissed bloke in there who said he saw the man in question, but he was too deep in his pint to offer anything helpful.” 

Robards rubbed his temples in frustration. “So we have a report of the possible kidnapper, and no one bothered to notice more than he was _swarthy_? Merlin, what the bloody hell?” 

Williamson added, “Sorry, sir, but so few took notice ‘cept to assume he was a traveler because of his attire and his look and kept going. No one gave a second look, not after he left in a hurry.” 

Robards spouted ribald comments that the men ignored. 

“We talked with the elderly woman who came in and returned Molly’s purchases.” Auror Williamson checked his notes one last time. “We brought it in, as evidence, if you think it’s important. She did say that it was weird that she found the provisions in the alley and no other evidence. We knew then that he’d apparated away with Mrs. Weasley.” 

Harry chimed in. “The butcher was a quite upset when we showed up. He said Mrs. Weasley was a good customer, chatty too, when she’d come in for groceries for the family. She’d been coming in on Wednesday mornings for years.” 

Williamson finished reading his scribbled notes and looked up from them. 

“Our kidnapper was smart in picking an apparition point to take her. We can only speculate, after inspecting the location, was that Magic was performed there, but because it’s an apparition point, we can’t pinpoint what he did or how he did it, much less where he went to.” 

“Is that all you found?” Minister Shacklebolt asked. 

Harry ran a hand through his unkempt locks. “Sorry, sir, but that’s all the facts we found in two hours. We checked the entire area and it appears he traced where the Weasleys live and then narrowed the scope. It means he’d been watching for some time and mostly knew her schedule. If I had to guess, he only showed himself in the last two weeks but had been watching even longer. He couldn’t take her from the Burrow since it has such strong enchantments on it, thanks to Bill Weasley. Instead, he took advantage of the opportunity afforded.” 

“Molly went to the butcher every Wednesday morning because he would mark down everything he didn’t sell since the weekend.” Arthur looked at his shoes while trying to hide his shame. “It was how we stretched our galleons, feeding the entire family.” He looked up at Ron and Percy. “Some habits are hard to turn your back on, I reckon. My wife is still frugal, even if we don’t have kids at home anymore.” 

Gawain gave the wizard sitting before him a small nod in appreciation. He remembered how hard it was feeding the kids on a junior Auror’s salary. He respected a man who provided for the family. 

But it still didn’t help find where Mrs. Weasley was located. 

More epithets leaked out. The men let his crass comments wash over them. 

“All you brought me back in two hours were three second-hand witness statements and information I could have guessed at. Throw in the ransom note and we’ve got diddly. I dunno about you, but that’s pants to go on.” Director Robards looked towards the desk where Hermione was feverously devouring the property records ledger. “We’re right buggered if we have to wait on Granger to get us the information from that damn ledger.” 

The men ignored the Minister, letting the Director direct the mission. 

Harry spoke up. “Well, we know who it is. Can’t we get a warrant for Gringott’s and have them send over their records?” 

Robards regarded the young Auror. Harry had proven himself an asset to the department many times over. “That’s the next step, Potter. Let’s hope that the vault hasn’t been emptied ahead of time.” Auror Williamson looked around the department too. “So who can we get to help us with those bloody goblins? I dunno about you but I’m pants at Gobbldygook.” 

Arthur looked up. Director Robards saw the mania in his eyes. “My son Bill works for Gringott’s. With a written warrant, signed by the Wizengamot, he could get us the information we need.” 

Director Robards snorted in consternation. “Arthur, he doesn’t work for us, but those greedy little blighters. What makes you think he’ll help us?” 

Arthur’s expression hardened. “I raised my son right, that’s why. Or should I say Molly raised him right. I’m sure he can balance his duty to his job and also assist.” Arthur looked around the bay at his other sons, working hard to help him. “He’d help if we asked him too, just like the rest are pitching in.” 

Robards crossed his arms. “What the hell is this, rescue via the Weasley clan? This is an Auror case, run by Aurors, and the mission is to capture the fugitive, and rescue your wife, in that order. Do I make myself clear?” 

Arthur stood up and put a finger into the Director’s chest. “Bollocks. This is a rescue mission, first and foremost, to get my wife back, and sod all if you capture or kill the bastard who took her. You might be running this as an Auror but my wife’s life is at stake and you’re not going to muck it up by looking at it as capturing the fugitive first.” 

Harry and Auror Williamson melted away from the older men’s presence. Ron was back there, talking loudly but they couldn’t comprehend what he was saying. 

“Arthur, we all know what’s at stake here.” Kingsley’s broad hand settled Arthur down and he stepped back from the Director. The other attending Aurors quietly took their hands off their wands. “But as Aurors, our task is to do both. Molly is foremost on all our minds, right Gawain?” The Minister gave the director a look and he backed down. “But we also have to capture the fugitive, preferably alive, and get Molly safely home. Unlike you, we have to follow protocol and the regulations set down by the Wizengamot. We have the law and have to follow it.” 

The men looked over the bay to where Hermione and Percy were working through the tome. Her quill continued to scratch over the parchment hovering next to her, while Percy was doing the same on the next ledger. “Until those two can get us some answers, or we can get someone to get information from Gringott’s, we’re stuck.” 

“Have you asked for a warrant from MLS? Let’s get a solicitor write one up and get it fast-tracked to the Wizengamot for approval, then stamped by Kingsley. I bet the goblins will get us the information then. Maybe having both will assist the case faster.” 

“Kingsley, rubber stamp it and let’s get going on this.” 

“Sorry, Arthur, but we have to follow the law. The Wizengamot set the protocols that we have to follow. You know that as well as I do. That’s the law, too. I don’t want this sod back out because we didn’t follow the law.” 

“I just want my wife back.” Arthur sat back down in his chair. 

“We do too, Mr. Weasley.” Kingsley directed Arthur to a chair while Gawain decided on the next course of action. 

“Someone get the MLS Solicitor up here now. I want a warrant drawn up and submitted within the hour. You,” He pointed to the nearest department secretary. “You go in person and get him up here as soon as possible. The less that know about this, the better off we all will be.” She scurried from the department while Robards was distracted from his thoughts by watching the younger men in the back of the department. “What’s Weasley doing back there?” 

They looked towards the back of the bay. He was gesticulating towards Harry, and his voice didn’t echo. “It sounds like they silenced their argument behind a spell. Otherwise I think everyone in the Ministry would hear him.” 

Arthur watched his youngest son pointing a finger at Harry and Harry standing before him, scowling back. “Ron’s protective of Mum. He always has been.” 

Robards hid the smile he felt for young men. “He’s a good Auror, if he can keep his head on straight. But he won’t work with Harry on this case. He’d be a liability if things go sideways.” 

“Somebody tell me where my Father is!” a voice bellowed out from the front of the department. Everyone looked up and saw Charlie Weasley storming into the department, with brother Bill right behind him. “Where the hell is Mum? I’ve sent owls and no one answered!” 

Arthur stood up and walked towards his newly arrived sons. “Come here because there’s a problem.” 

“Problem? What the fuck is going on? Where’s Mum?” His face was slowly growing darker than his hair. 

“Easy there, Charlie.” Bill put his hand on his younger brother’s arm and pulled him back from the Aurors. “If you shut your piehole, he’ll explain.” 

The Director watched the new arrivals go to another corner of the department and were silenced out. “Terrific. Just what we need: more men hindering us rather than helping.” Arthur sat his oldest sons down, probably to explain how cocked up things really were. 

“Gawain, how long have you been married?” Kingsley’s voice was very soft for such an imposing man. 

“Right on 40 years, I reckon. It’s not always easy.” 

Kingsley smiled but it didn’t touch his eyes. “And how many times have you worried your family sick when something terrible happens?” 

“We’re Aurors so all the time. It’s not been easy on Catherine. But then you know that.” 

The minister turned and gave the Director a calculated look. “Did it ever involve your wife being kidnapped, held for not ransom, but for a blood debt?” 

The Director grunted like he was slapped. “I see your point but these men won’t be able to help. They’ll get under foot and possibly get their Mum killed while trying to be heroes.” 

“Heroes, you say? No, that’s for the youngest of the bunch, him and Harry. No, the older ones are more shrewd and smarter. They will do just as we ask.” 

“But this is a job for Aurors, not family. They can make a simple mistake and get killed. They can easily get us killed.” 

“So do we pull the other Aurors from their cases, jeopardizing their investigations and tracking the others on the Most Wanted list, to save Molly? Do we dedicate the entire department for this one case? We still have Avery, Dolohov, and some others out roaming wild. Can we afford to pull those cases until we find Molly Weasley? They’re here and will probably offer to help. Why not put them to some use, since we are still stretched thin?” 

“But how can we use them?” 

“Didn’t you listen? Bill works for Gringott’s. I know his skills and he’s that good. He can get us the information from the Goblins and that will help. Percy is doing what he’s brilliant at, with Granger too, sorting information for us. Charlie? We can use him too, keeping Arthur out of the way and from rushing off to find Molly and mucking up things further. Ron and Harry can go point, if need be, when we do find her.” 

“Damn it, Kingsley, what are you doing in all this?’ 

The Minister looked past the Director and saw burning brown eyes glaring at him. “Sorry, Sir. I got carried away.” Charlie bit back a further retort when those obsidian eyes glared right back at him. “What’s the plan, sir?” 

Director Robards stepped in front of Charlie. He was two inches taller than the young man, but he was easily 5 stone lighter and he knew that the young man could beat him to a pulp without a wand. 

“You know what the plan is, Charlie? There is no plan, not until we know where the kidnapper is hiding. He’s covered his tracks well, especially since he’s evaded capture the three and a half years. Until we know where he’s holed up, we can’t do a thing.” He waved his arm towards Hermione and Percy, who look like they were half-way through their books. “If you want to help, take your father home and keep him safe. Keep him where he can’t leave, and keep your eyes open. Keep watch over the family that is left, so no one else is taken. Sorted?” 

“Yeah, sorted.” 

Kingsley realized the missing pieces of his situation. “Where are George and Ginny? What about them?” 

“Last time I talked with George, he and Angelina were in Karachi on a purchasing trip and Ginny just left for a month’s tour of South America.” Charlie blew out breath in consternation. “She’s gonna be full of dragon’s fire once she finds out.” 

Director Robards prepared for ire. “This doesn’t go outside this room, understand?” 

Charlie imitated a house elf that was told their cooking was rubbish. “Are you mad? Ginny will have all our bollocks for a necklace if she finds out Mum was kidnapped and no one bothered to tell her.” 

“We can’t afford to have this out to the Wizarding public. It’s too dangerous, especially to Molly, and will create a panic. So no, Ginny isn’t told.” 

Charlie crossed his arms, showing obvious disagreement. “This is on your head, Minister, when she finds out.” 

“So be it. Sometimes hard choices have to be made, and paid for.” Kingsley knew Charlie meant well but Molly’s life was paramount right now. 

“Director, we think we found something.” 

The gathering moved back to the collection of desks in the corner. Hermione and Percy had various books opened, and had parchment strewn everywhere. “Sir,” she started in her no-nonsense voice. “I’ve found some properties owned by the family, and I thought it would give us a start. Here is a list of what I’ve so far found.” 

Percy looked up from his stack of parchment. “And I’ve traced any other possibilities, potentially owned by the family.” 

The Director looked over the list and frowned. “That’s four properties so far you’ve come across.” 

“But it’s a start, sir.” Percy retorted. “You asked for information and here is some.” 

“You’re right, even if I don’t think this is it.” Director Robards snorted. “Weasley, Smythe, get your asses over here. Williamson, Potter, you too.” The four men arrived. “Check these properties out. Investigate and report back. Do not approach if you find something; wait for backup. Under no circumstances are you to engage the fugitive unless fired upon. Understand?” 

“Yes, sir,” four voices replied. 

“Get on it and report back as soon as possible.” 

The four men left, task in hand, and he hoped that they’d have something by the end of the shift. 

“I want updates as soon as possible, Gawain. As much as I love Molly, I have a Ministry to run.” 

“Yes, sir. I’ll have memos sent up hourly.” 

Kingsley turned and his shadow fell in behind him. “If it’s a choice between capturing him, and saving Molly, there is no choice. I’ll stake my office on it.” 

Director Robards nodded in understanding. “Yes, sir.” 

The Minister left and Director Robards went back to where Percy and Hermione were still scanning the records. There was a small stack of parchment between them, with information stacking up on it. “Anything else you’ve found?” 

“Are we sure we can’t negotiate with the kidnapper? I mean, there must be something he’d want beside payment of the blood debt.” Percy looked up from his book with a frown on his face. “Everyone has a price. You said so yourself, right, Director?” 

“It would seem that, if the note is correct, his price is a steep one, of which we don’t want to pay.” 

Bill came over to where Director Robards was talking with Percy. He saw that the rest of the department was back working on their tasks, leaving them alone. “Hermione, what’s going through your mind?” 

Her quill didn’t stop scratching on the parchment. 

“You’ve been at it over an hour. Take five,” He prodded gently. 

“Three, actually,” she held up one finger while she finished with a particular page. Once she got to the end of it, the quill quit writing and she looked up at the gathering around her desk. “Where’s Ron and Harry?” 

Director Robards snorted. “I sent them out to check the potential properties that you uncovered.” 

“Ah, that makes sense.” 

Robards decided to update them all, even if they weren’t Aurors and subject to his rules. “Percy wants to negotiate. I told him that blood debt cannot be negotiated.” 

“Well, the fugitive is from an Old Pureblood family and thinks on those terms. It’d make sense, from what we know of him, which will also mean that his other methods will be along the same lines.” 

“You blather as much as my Mum used to do. Get to the point!” Director Robards growled. 

She turned and frowned in his general direction. “I think he’d hide in one of his properties instead of having a separate safe house. It’s the only thing that would make sense.” She continued to frown while looking off in the distance. “Of course he’d do that. He’d have one that was under a Fidelus Charm. And since he’s obviously not smart, kidnapping Molly and bringing down the wrath of the Aurors, he’d hide somewhere he’d thinks he is completely safe. He’d be the Secret Keeper of the property and take her there, wherever _there_ is.” 

She lifted a page of parchment and scanned it for pertinent information. “He thinks like a Pureblood wizard, assuming that he's safe in his castle. He'd not presume that the paper trail would lead us to him, if I can find the bloody start of it." 

Director Robards was fascinated by her line of reasoning. Maybe he could use her for this case after all. “But why his own residence, and not say, someplace abandoned that he’d hide in? Why would you think that?” 

Hermione ran her finger over a line on the parchment, letting her mind run with the possible pattern she’d desperately tried to puzzle out all afternoon. A huge chessboard floated across her mind and it all made sense. 

She looked up at the men around her. “It’s what Ron would do, if he was plotting revenge. Our kidnapper would think he was in control but Ron changed all that by finding out almost immediately, by sheer dumb luck. He’d capture on his own terms and then fight on his own ground. He’d know the area well, not someplace that was foreign to him. He’d want someplace he grew up in, and knows the area perfectly. Ron taught me that you fight on the ground of your choice, not on your enemy’s terms.” 

She turned back to the book in her lap along with the one in Percy’s lap. “It also means I’ve not found where he’s hiding. All of those properties were considerably older, generations old. But since I don’t know of him except from third hand sources, I don’t know where to look.” 

“Bill?” 

“Yes, sir?” 

“As soon as the solicitor is here, I’m submitting a warrant for his vault at Gringott’s. The warrant will stipulate that any information they have is to be turned over immediately. We need that information in there to find where his property assets are. That should tell us where his primary residence is. I requested this because the rate that Weasley and Granger are going, they won’t find it for another week.” He scrutinized the lanky curse breaker before him, with the scarred face, wearing a Dragonskin jacket, cut like a muggle motorcycle jacket, along with his long hair pulled into a ponytail. “I want to do this the right way, by the law and procedure, but we need that information today. If we wait too long to respond, he’s going to hurt Molly and that’s not what we want.” He took a deep breath. “I’m asking you because you work for the goblins and you are fluent in Gobbldygook.” 

“The goblins, they won’t want to cooperate. He’s one of the old families, and they are hesitant to help the wandholders against one another.” Bill thought for a moment. “But then, if another old family was requesting it on the warrant, they might not complain terribly much.” 

A small smile crossed his face. “So how do we go about it?” 

“The Weasley name doesn’t have any sway there, at least our branch of it. We’re Purebloods but we aren’t wealthy, not by a longshot. No, it’d have to be another family name, one with more pull.” Bill grinned. “Either we ask Kingsley for his name on it, since he’s an old Pureblood family, or,” Bill interrupted. 

“Go on,” Robards added. 

“We could ask Andromeda Black-Tonks to ask for it. If there’s a name that’s older than the fugitive we’re chasing, the Ancient and Noble House of Black will certainly suffice.” 

“Would she agree to it, requesting the warrant?” 

“Of course, Director. Her grandson, who is Harry’s G_dson, plays with our daughter at least once a week. Besides,” Bill smiled, “Have you ever met her, Director? Change her hair slightly and she’s a close resemblance to her sister. I’m not above some subterfuge to get Mum back.” 

“Fine then. I’ll Firecall her now and make the request. If she’s as willing as you say, especially under the circumstances, then I don’t think we’ll have a problem.” 

Director Robards left to make the urgent call. 

Bill looked around the department. Charlie was rowing with Dad in one corner, and Percy was helping Hermione distill property records at the desk nearest him. For the moment, he was nothing more than an interested observer, since his skills weren’t needed right now. 

Bill turned to see how Percy and Hermione were doing when he heard his name. 

“Bill, help me. You gotta help me talk some bloody sense into him. Dad wants to leave and go find Mum.” 

Bill couldn’t help the two who were deep into their books of research so he did what was needed, which was helping his other brother. He walked back to Charlie and saw his Dad struggling in a chair by someone’s desk. “Why does dad look stuck?” 

Charlie grimaced. “Um, I used magic to bind him to the chair.” Charlie saw the scowl growing on Bill’s face and cut across him. “I had to ‘cause he kept trying to sneak out of the department, to go find Mum.” 

“We’ll talk later about this. You know better than to use magic against our parents. Even Percy knows that.” Bill knelt in front of his father. Arthur was still struggling against his magical bonds but settled down when Bill’s watery blue eyes froze him. “I know you want to go save Mum. But you can’t. You have to trust the Aurors to do their job, including Ron and Harry. You’ve even got Hermione and Percy working on the case as best as they can.” 

“But Mum, she’s, she needs me. I need to go to her.” He struggled again against Charlie’s magic and didn’t budge. “Release me so we can end this mess.” He lifted his arms but his hips stayed adhered to the metal chair. 

“Dad, you can’t think like that. You have to stay positive. Let us find her. And we will.” 

“But he’s got Mummy. If he hurts her,” Arthur wiped his face, “I can’t live with that.” He looked up at his two oldest sons and saw the comprehension on their faces. “Mummy’s stronger than I am. I won’t be able to live if she’s hurt because of what I did.” 

“What did you do, Dad? Why has this sick fuck targeted you and Mum?” 

Arthur hung his head. “This is my burden, and my responsibility. I won’t bring either one of you into my sins, nor will I ask you to help in this.” 

“You’re too late. Ron asked us and we owe him on this one. He saved our arses and it’s time we helped him out, however we can.” Bill and Charlie looked at one another before returning to their father. “If that means helping you while he does his job, so be it. But you’re not leaving here unless it’s with one of us by your side.” 

Arthur looked from one to the other, wrestling with his demon. “Alright, but both of you need to know I don’t regret what happened. I’d do it again, even if it means that I turn myself over.” 

For the next hour, Arthur explained to his oldest sons why someone declared a blood debt against him and Molly, and why she was kidnapped. Bill and Charlie sat stoic, leaving their father to tell the narrative. They didn’t interrupt, but listened to everything he said. Anyone else who looked at them could have asked what was going on. But no one interrupted them. 

“So, you see, I need to go. I’ve lived a good life and our family needs Mummy.” 

“Dad, hate to tell you this, but you’re full of shite.” Charlie grinned. “We need both of you, and will for quite a few more years.” He looked at his brother at his shoulder. “Cause this sod probably isn’t done shagging his incredibly attractive wife and I doubt that two kids will suffice for these silly buggers.” 

“Shut it, you. Just because you rather play with your dragons than women doesn’t mean I’m having more kids to make up for you.” 

Arthur grinned slightly, the first one he’d had in hours, since he received the note. 

“Sorry, Dad, but we’re not letting you leave. Ron’d have our hide if you left and he hasn’t done his job.” 

Arthur looked at his sons. “But what if Mummy is hurt?” 

“We can’t think like that, not ‘til we know more.” 

Arthur sagged back into the chair, resigned to their wisdom. “Checkmate. I’ll stay put for now. I won’t try to give myself up to him.” 

“Sorted. Now, you know, we have a few other problems.” Bill looked to Charlie before looking back to his dad. 

“What’s that?” 

“Who is going to find George and Ginny? Someone has to tell them what’s going on.” 

“Well, we know about Ginny. Harry said that she left Monday morning for a month’s tour of South America with the National Team. I dunno about George. I’ve not talked with him since Sunday brunch last weekend.” 

“Someone’s going to have to go to where she’s at this week, or find a way to tell her.” 

“But we still don’t know about George.” 

“We’ll call George from the cottage tonight and tell him in person. We don’t need a firestorm in the middle of Wizarding London if he finds out before we tell him.” 

“So that’s the plan? Are you saying we stay with you and Fleur and Victorie tonight, under Fleur’s case and protection, until we find out more?” 

“But Mum?” 

Bill looked considerate under the circumstances. “Dad, we can’t do a thing about it until either Harry or Ron return with news, or Hermione and Percy find something. Until, we’re just chasing gnomes.” 

Arthur slumped further down in his chair. Wrinkles were creasing his face as the day wore on. 

“I hate just sitting here when there is nothing I can do to make the situation better.” 

Charlie put his scarred hands on his dad’s shoulders and squeezed, trying to give him whatever strength he needed to keep going. 

“We know and until we do know something, we’re staying here and waiting for information, unless you want to go back to the cottage and wait there?” 

Arthur never answered which was his answer. 

Charlie looked around the mostly empty department. The Minister left almost two hours ago to attend Ministry business. The Director hadn’t returned either, from his firecall to Andromeda Tonks or other Auror business. He might still be with the Wizengamot, trying to get that much needed warrant for the vault and the information within it. 

All that was left, besides a few secretaries, was Hermione and Percy working diligently on their task. 

“Until they can find us the remaining information, we stay put. Because if we go out looking ourselves, we might be either in the way or make things worse.” Arthur’s middle of thought exposition startled the two men from their own deep thoughts. But Arthur continued, not bothering to pay attention to his two sons who were sitting with him. “But how long do we wait?” 

Bill turned stoic. “We wait as long as we can. We have to give everyone time to check everything possible to find her. Rushing this task could get her killed. Impatient actions have killed many in my profession.” 

The three of them looked at the other pair. They didn’t speak to one another and they didn’t take a break from their task. They worked relentlessly, devouring page after page of information. While they read, their quills worked feverously, inscribing what they determined to be vital information. 

“Maybe between all three things that are happening, someone will have us an answer by this evening.” 

“What else is happening?” 

“Well, the Director is off to get a Warrant to serve a vault in question, with Andromeda’s help. Her name might be enough to get the goblins to relent and let him search it for clues. I offered my name but that doesn’t hold gold with the Goblins, unfortunately.” 

“So there’s nothing we can do, besides eventually go home and wait, right?” 

“Yeah, I reckon so. It’s not like we can go out with Harry and Ron and help them. And from the looks over there,” he waved his hands at Percy and Hermione, “we’d only slow them down on their task.” 

“But I don’t want to leave, not until Ron and Harry come back.” 

“We’ll wait then.” Charlie stood up and looked around. “I dunno about you but I’m a bit peckish. Anyone else want anything to eat while we wait?” 

“Only you’d think about food at a time like this.” Bill shook his head. “Ron’s just like you, always thinking with your stomach.” 

“I missed breakfast, lunch, and tea. I need nosh, even if it’s rubbish.” Charlie made his way towards the doors. “I’ll bring back something for everyone. We can’t afford to have anyone pass out from starvation, not when there’s too much at stake right now. 

“Dad, I’m getting something for you too. You have to eat as well.” He pushed open the doors and left. 

“You need anything, Dad?” 

Arthur looked at his oldest and knew he’d understand. “Besides Mum? Tea when Charlie gets back. But then you understand, don’t you?”

Bill thought of Fleur and the kids at home. Home was screaming girls and a hot bowl of Fleur’s Onion soup when he got home from work. “Yeah, I reckon I do, now.”


	4. In Sanctified Bonding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Aurors are hunting the kidnapper based on Hermione's information and find more than they bargained for. While still at the Ministry, Arthur speaks his mind on the whole thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** This is a crime story and there are some sensitive elements in it (and probably can say in this chapter, too!) For those who haven’t started it, and you have a question about a potential trigger, ask away. They are necessary for the plot, sadly. Once again, this is a smut-free story since, in my humble opinion, it will completely detract from the plot.  
>  **Rated T** , for hard language and adult situations. I am writing some adult drabbles to fill that need and niche.  
> My thanks to: the readers and the ones leaving Kudos. 'Tis appreciated. - _DG_

* * *

Four Aurors landed under the cover of magic at the appointed apparition point in the industrial area of Sheffield. Hermione was exact on the address of the possible location and Auror Smythe fortunately knew the area. He mentioned that it was warehouses, some modern and some that were brick and oak from decades past. 

“It’s not far, maybe a mile away. We’ll be there shortly.” 

The men walked silently, hidden from view under Disillusionment charms, and eventually came to the street in question. Rows upon rows of warehouses lined both sides of the roadway. 

“Hermione’s touched. This can’t be the place.” Auror Williamson pulled the parchment from his jacket and scanned the information on it. “But this is the street we need to be on.” 

“I bet she’s wrong,” Auror Smythe spoke up. “She’s not perfect.” 

Ron casually flicked the Deluminator in his pocket to extinguish the street lamps. “Hermione’s never wrong,” Ron retorted. “We’re just not there yet.” 

Harry looked at the information. “My place is a normal building, just hidden. Wizards hide in plain sight too, I reckon. If she said this is the place, then it is.” 

“Then why is there nothing to protect it?” 

“I bet it is but just doesn’t look like it. 

“Quit nattering,” Auror Williamson barked out to them. “Follow my wand.” 

They walked a bit further and eventually found the discrepancy in their visual reconnoiters. “I think we found our place. Sure hope the sod didn’t put it under a Fidelus charm.” They all looked around again to make sure that they were alone for the moment. 

“Ron, you go first. Demonstrate what you’ve learned.” Auror Smythe stood back along with the others. Ron did his magical inspection and found the weakness. “It’s not a Fidelus charm, just a notice-me-not. I’ll break it.” 

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this. Something’s not right here,” Harry spoke up. 

“Shut it, Harry. It’s not like we’re barging into Malfoy Manor with wands a firing.” Ron broke the spell with an audible pop. “Ladies first,” Ron cheeked. 

Harry thrust up his hand in a rude gesture that no one saw but took point. He saw the old brick façade along with the small oaken doors. One spell later and they were standing in a small enclosure, without additional walls but oak and brick buttresses and supports for the roof. “Would you look at this place? It’s a bloody rat’s nest in here.” 

Harry swept his wand around the room, showing all of the magic across it. “Look at the amount of wards in here! Wow,” he muttered before disarming the protections cast on the entire room. 

“Everyone take a corner and work your way inward.” Each of the men spread out to the four corners of the shabby storage bay to look for clues. “We need a place to find this guy and we need it yesterday.” 

“I’ve got nothing here,” Auror Smythe spoke up first. “’cept some nasty dishes that look to have been here a while. Stuff got shite growing on them and everything.” 

“Same here,” Ron added. “Last paper here next to the reclining chair is from two weeks ago. It looks like he’s been elsewhere since then.” 

“I’ve got something,” Harry spoke up. 

The other Aurors joined him to the corner he was in. Boxes were haphazardly piled in a corner of the expansive room. Harry opened the first one and saw paperwork and other information. “We need this back at the Ministry. There might be some clues in it.” Auror Williamson tucked the box into his rucksack. 

Harry picked up a box and heard a rattle. “Galleons, maybe?” He opened it and saw galleons in the box – hundreds of them. He reached for the first one and picked it up. “It looks real but we need a goblin to verify it.” 

“I smell smoke.” Ron lifted his head and sniffed again. “What’s going on?” 

Auror Williamson turned and spotted the fire burning about 20 feet away. “Bloody hell,” he growled further. Aguamenti, he cast, dousing the fire. “Fuck,” Ron bit back. “We’ve got a problem. 2 more, on the other walls.” He pointed his wand at the two fires and extinguished them. 

Each of the Aurors grabbed a box and apparated outside. They popped back in once more to grab more boxes, each time fire pressing in harder, stronger, growing faster like a dragon in their first molting. Smoke filled the room and every time someone tried to clean the air, it grew dense and malevolent. “Guys, get as much shite out of here.” Auror Williamson yelled but it was too late. “Get out of here!” 

Auror Williamson pointed his wand at the four that cropped up around him and tried to extinguish them too. 16 more cropped up. “Damn it, get out of here. We’ll fight it outside.” 

Harry and Ron ran to the corner. Flames flicked their cloaks and nipped at their heels. “Last ones. Grab them and let’s go!” 

“Hurry,” Ron choked out. 

Harry accio’d the last 2 boxes into his ruck. He felt huge arms around him before spinning into the darkness. 

* * *

Charlie bumped open the door to the department, laden with sacks of sandwiches and a floating tray of tea.He vaguely remembered how everyone took theirs: from Dad who liked sugar and milk, to Bill who added only a touch of sugar, and Percy who took milk only. Hermione was a guess, adding milk with sugar on the side. She might be one of those barmy people who drank it with nothing in it. Or maybe he cocked up and she drank coffee, or that swill called espresso, like Fleur prefers.

His was loaded up with Sugar, just like Ron takes it. He remembered that Christmas Dinner, when Hermione scolded him for the tablespoons of sugar in his cup. _Rot your teeth, you will_ , she said tartly. Ron only leaned over and kissed her on the cheek, in front of everyone, before tucking into his cup. The look on Hermione’s face after he laid a sugar sweetened kiss on her cheek had the whole table in an uproar. 

“Here, don’t let it get too cold.” He handed over the cups and the first sack to Hermione and Percy. Percy opened the parcel and pulled out a ham sandwich, tucking in immediately. “Thanks,” Percy muttered between bites of the sandwich in his hands. Hermione waved without removing her eyes from the book on the desk, the scratch of the quill accompanying her work. 

“Here, brought sandwiches along with tea.” Charlie let the tray settle on the desk and pulled out two for him, along with two for Bill and one in the parcel for Dad, if he could choke something down. “Figure that tea might calm the nerves some.” 

“Thanks, but I can’t eat anything right now. I’m sick over what’s happening.” 

“Dad, drink some tea. Maybe that’ll help. No one wants you to pass out over worry.” Charlie tried to smile but couldn’t do it, not when his dad’s face was screwed up so much. 

Arthur took the cup in his hands and let it sit. “Where are Ron and Harry? Shouldn’t they be back by now? Why aren’t they back yet?” 

“They have to do things the right way, just like Hermione does.” Bill checked his watch. “They’ve been gone about three hours, by my watch. They might be out a few more hours, depending on what they find.” 

“Are you sure it’s been three hours? It seems they’ve only been gone an hour. But they should be back by now.” Arthur looked at his sons and they saw the panic growing on his features. “What if something happened to them, too? What if they were hurt or kidnapped as well? Maybe I should – “

“You can’t go looking for them.” Bill kept his head but his father’s fear might be his undoing. “You’re making yourself worse if you keep thinking _what if_.” 

“I’m scared.” Arthur turned back to the doors of the department and sat resolute in the chair. “I wish they’d hurry,” he muttered mostly to himself. 

“Nobody’s going anywhere, not ‘til Ron and Harry get back.” 

A door crashed in the back of the department. “Well that’s just cocked up,” Director Robards growled with a department assistant trailing behind him. “I don’t bloody care what they say. We’ve got a effin’ warrant and those bloody goblins better get me that information tomorrow. I don’t give a shite what they say.” He stopped and turned to the red faced legal assistant. “And you can quote me on that.” 

“But sir, the Goblins have – “

“This is an active investigation that requires that bloody information. You Firecall the solicitor; I don’t care if he’s on holiday in Crete. You get his arse in here now. That office has a huge problem when the only barrister on duty is fresh off an appointment to the department. Shite, the ikcle doesn’t need to shave with his wand more than once a effin’ Month!” 

“I realize your need but the law is resolute. You heard the barrister: the goblins aren’t required to hand over that information without cause from the Wizengamot. Kingsley can’t order them to do it, even if he wants to. The laws are in place for a reason, sir. Just producing a warrant for information isn’t legal. It’s Wizarding Law, codified by Muggle Law over a hundred years ago.” 

Bill shook his head. “Shite, I’m going to go help. You lose him and I’ll torch your ass.” He didn’t wait for Charlie to acknowledge his threat. 

Bill got up and went to the argument. “Something I can help with?” 

Director Robards turned to Bill Weasley, completely red faced. “I have some bloke with pock marks telling me that my warrant for information on the vault will have to wait until the Wizengamot reconvenes in two weeks. It doesn’t matter we need the information for an active kidnapping. Oh no, all that matters is that they are all on Holiday and won’t return.” he grumbled under his breath. 

“And you are?” Bill smiled at the simpering assistant. 

“Miranda Croydon. I’m the executive legal assistant of the department. Solicitor Lawson is out of the country and will be for a few more days.” 

“And we have one barrister on duty for the entire ministry to help us?” 

“I’m afraid so, sir. The rest will return on Monday.” 

“Come, Miss Croydon. I work at Gringott’s. Maybe I can assist this Barrister better.” 

Bill departed with Miss Croydon. 

Director Robards walked back over to Charlie and Arthur, still steaming from his bitter row with Legal Affairs barrister. “The pimply faced barrister said that since Gringott’s wasn’t directly involved in the kidnapping that they’d need a signature from the Mugwump for them to release the information. Ewan bleedin Purifoy is out of the country for another 10 days. Whoever scheduled all the Solicitors off during the Holidays needs to be strung up. We need their help.” 

Arthur put his head back in his hands. 

“Dad, it’s OK. We’ve still got other means, right?” He looked at the other two with a stack of parchment between then. “I know they’ll come through.” Charlie gave the Director a pleading look, praying he was right. 

“You hope they do,” Arthur spoke quietly. “I just hope it’s not too late. He said three days.” 

“Arthur, you have to stay positive.” Gawain knelt down before the younger man who looked twice his age at the moment. “It’s only been a few hours, and I reckon we still have time since we’ve not received another owl from him. Until we do, we’re still operating without his knowledge, which gives us the advantage.” He looked around the department. “He’s right, though. Weasley and Granger are the two best available people for the task.” 

“You’re right. I can’t think the worst, not yet at least.” Arthur took a huge gulping breath and laid his shaking hands on his weary knees. “Molly’d fuss at me for falling apart so fast. She could have the twins starting a fire in their bedroom, Ginny asleep on her shoulder, and a ham in the oven and she’d not bat an eye at handling all of it.” He snorted in self-recrimination. “And here I am, all of a few hours now and I’m falling apart.” 

If his wife was gone he’d be lost too. “Is there anyone else we can call to keep you company? Other family or friends we can call?” 

“No, no one. Our parents are dead. Her brothers died in ’81, courtesy of Dolohov and some others, and one of my brothers already perished. I have another brother, Cassius, but we only talk at weddings and funerals.” Arthur looked up at Gawain’s face. “So many friends died at Hogwarts and the ones who didn’t are on this case trying to find Molly. No, we invested our lives in our kids, at some cost, but I’d not trade it for all the galleons in Gringott’s.” 

“No, I understand. I needed to verify if there was anyone else who has to know.” 

“Only Ginny’s left after tonight. She left Monday morning for a tour of South America with the National Quidditch team.” Arthur wrung his hands again. “I don’t know how I’m going to tell her.” 

“We’ll figure a secure way to tell her. If you want, I’ll contact the Brasilian Ministry and start the snitch on it.” 

Arthur shook his head frantically. “No, too many people would find out. No, there’s got to be another way.” 

“You know our cover is blown on this,” Gawain said gently. “We might as well –“

“You don’t know that!” he yelled, raising heads across the department. “It’s not your bloody wife’s life at stake!” 

“Arthur, we’re working – “

“I want my wife back, damn it! You do whatever you have to do to get her back. I don’t bloody well care how you do it.” 

“Arthur, that’s enough.” Director Robards turned to Charlie. “Take him home or somewhere safe. I won’t have him here while we’re trying to find his wife.” 

“I’m not leaving.” Arthur’s eyes burned behind his glasses. His knuckles turned purple from gripping the end of the desk. 

“Yes you are. You aren’t running this rescue. I am. Now go home and we’ll Fire call you when we know anything.” Robards leaned forward so the rest of his words didn’t spiral like Fiendfyre in the department. “I promise we’re doing everything we can to find her. But until we know for certain where she is, you’re making things worse.” 

“Come on, Dad. We’ll go see Fleur and the kids. That’ll take your mind off what’s going on.” Charlie stood before his father and waited for him to make the first move. 

“Sorry,” Arthur surreptitiously wiped his eyes beneath his glasses before looking up at his son. “We’ll leave and go see Fleur and Teddy and Victorie. Right?” 

“It beats sitting here,” Charlie looked around at the few people who were working but not on their case, “going barmy waiting for hours for information. You need the distraction and it’ll do you a world of good. Besides, Victorie loves _Pepe Rouge_.”

“Fleur needs to know too,” Arthur muttered. “Bill wouldn’t have had time to tell her, would he?” 

“No, he wouldn’t. We need to tell her and also call George. So we’ll tell them and go from there. How’s that sound?” 

Arthur finally stood up from the rickety chair in front of the ancient desk. “Yeah, that sounds good.” Charlie put his arm out and let his father hold onto it, clinging for dear life. 

Gawain spoke up before they could get very far. “I’ll Firecall as soon as we know something. Where will you be?” 

“Bill can tell you where. We’ll stay there since kidnapper knows where we live.” 

“That sounds good. And Charlie?” 

Charlie stopped with Arthur before they left the department. 

“If you get any owls or notifications, inform us immediately. Don’t contact the kidnapper yourself for any reason. Don’t respond to his communication.” 

Arthur nodded solemnly. “I understand, Gawain.” The men made his way towards the double doors of the department. 

“Arthur? We’re not stopping ‘til we bring Molly home. You know that, I hope.” 

“I do. I just hope she’s still Molly at that point.” Arthur took a gulping breath before heading out the doors with Charlie under his elbow. 

“I pray we find her alive,” Director Robards muttered darkly under his breath. He shook the disturbing possibilities from his head and went back over to where Percy and Hermione were still working. 

“Please tell me you found more information.” 

Percy scrutinized the Director. “Sir, why didn’t you just pull his file from MLS? We could have saved precious manpower hours and research if you just pulled his file.” 

“Don’t get shirty with me, Weasley. The reason why we didn’t pull his file was that someone banished all the Death Eater files, save the Malfoys, when the coup happened. All of this sod’s records vanished and we’ve got shite to go on. That’s why you’ve been looking through all of the damn records.” 

Percy gulped. “Yes, sir.” Percy picked up his stack of parchment lying on his desk. “We actually have but whether it’s the right information is outside our scope of knowledge.” He lifted the parchment sheets to the Director but he shook them off. 

“Facts only and we can go from there, Weasley.” 

Percy scanned the parchment in his hands.” “We already found six parcels of property but figured those weren’t relevant.” 

“Go on,” he asserted. 

“Hermione uncovered four more, in other parts of Southern England. Whether any of them are relevant is unclear, but we do have some leads for you to assess.” 

“That’s a brilliant start. Good work Weasley. ” He looked at the now frazzled brunette sitting at her chair, running her finger over the script in the book while her quill stopped and started often on the hovering parchment. Information was quickly filling each sheet and landing on the desk. “But what is she doing?” 

“She’s cross-checking the information with marital bonds as well, to see if there is a related grandparent who might be a potential hiding place. With the inter-marrying among Pureblood families it’s hard to decipher who owns what and who is directly related. Those particular marriage relationships complicate the situation and the distillation of information. We’d have been done an hour ago if she wasn’t being so diligent or through. But we rather do it right now, the first time, trying to decide whether a property is relevant or not to our search. It complicates our search, frankly.” 

“That’s not your decision, Weasley.” 

“Isn’t it, Director?” Percy picked up a foot high stack of parchment and showed it to Director Robards. Robards saw four additional stacks. “You should, Director. This is the stack of _only as a last resort_ properties we’ve come across in our search for information. Do you have the manpower to check this list of one hundred properties just in the UK to try and find the sick person who kidnapped my Mum? Can you check these before our time is up? What about the other possible 400 properties?” 

“You’re right, we don’t. It’d take weeks with who is available. Those hundred properties would be finding a needle in a tangled ball of yarn. Five hundred would probably take five months.” 

The incessant scratching of Hermione’s quill on the floating parchment punctuated the precarious situation. Each scratch ticked off another second that they were closer to the deadline. 

“That’s exactly my point, sir. So Hermione finds the information and I decide, with my journal, whether it’s a distinct possibility, or less likely. She knows some of the family histories, from her time in Regulation of Magical Creatures department, but not like I do. So I distill while she searches.” 

Robards watched Hermione’s quill continue to scratch across the parchment, dictating details in her frantic search. “Stay at it, both of you. Merlin help us, you are the only way we’ll get that needed information tonight.” 

The doors to the department banged open and the four Aurors thundered into the department. “You’re not going to like what we have to tell you.” 

“Catch your breath, Weasley.” Robards turned towards Williamson. “Report and we’ll do the paperwork later.” 

Smoke wafted into the department, drifting off their robes. Ash fell from shoulders and out of hair. Auror Williamson pulled his notebook from an inside pocket and scanned his notes. Harry adjusted his rucksack on his shoulder. 

“We checked all the given properties and three of them were abandoned. We found the fourth and struck galleons. Fourth place was an abandoned warehouse, in Sheffield. It was his squalid safehouse and looked like a storage shed on the outside. But I can guarantee he’ll never return to it.” 

“What’s the bad news?” 

“It’s burnt to cinders. Bastard left behind a few nasty curses.” Auror Williamson coughed, echoing through the room, before standing back up to his supervisor. “Almost an entire block went up in flames when we tripped one of the wards. We barely got out of there with our skin.” 

“How many casualties were there?” 

“I dunno, sir. I saw the Fire Brigade out there fighting it. Obliviators were mopping up with the Muggles when we left.” 

Harry lifted his face and soot fell out of his singed hair. “We’d have been back sooner but we were helping put out the magical fire that erupted.” 

“Otherwise the whole thing, about 3 miles square, would have burned,” said Auror Smythe. “We saved what we could but the place was incinerated. Fire jumped and other buildings were going up. We stopped it where it was limited.” 

“Get checked out by the healer once you’re done with your report.” Director Robards evaluated his men. “So the bastard buggered out when he left to kidnap your Mum. Anything else?” 

“Yes, sir. The ward we tripped, it wasn’t Fiendfyre that torched the place.” 

“Not Fiendfyre?” 

“No, sir. Fiendfyre requires active control of the fire. This was something else. This was like _Incindeo Maxima_ but without the green flames.” 

“It could have been a lightening spell, triggered when you tripped the ward. If it’s set like a tripwire, it’d trip a second curse, like _incidio_ without the wizard having to be present.” 

“It wasn’t a tripwire we set off. Everyone disarmed all the wards inside the bay, didn’t we?” Auror Williamson spoke up. Three additional heads nodded in affirmation. 

Hermione ignored their quips and continued scanning the pages of the book. “Or it could be something more nefarious, like a conflagration spell coupled with _gemino_. You put one fire out, magically, and two more erupt.” She gazed away from the men. “Was it like a sequence of fires starting, each one adding to the flames?” 

“Yeah, I reckon it was,” Williamson chimed in. “But for every one we put out, two more popped up.” 

“Yeah, how’d you know?” Auror Smythe added. “I’d put out the first one, and three more cropped up in different places. We got stretched thin immediately.” 

“Our kidnapper is quite clever,” She looked at all of them, “and more dangerous than we originally anticipated.” 

“You missed the part of the briefing, Granger, when I mentioned that he’s responsible for at least 12 deaths, magical and muggle, up to now.” 

Hermione scowled but continued her thoughts. “I didn’t forget, sir. I don’t consider it important to my task of finding where he resides. But I’m not underestimating him either. He set a trap there, whether it’d go up in a day or a year. He wanted someone to perish inside there, trapping you in the blazes. You’d attempt to limit the damage and potentially get caught in the flames.” Director Robards ignored the smell of burnt hair and singed skin. “You four were smart to leave while you were intact.” She blew a deep breath. “Imagine if it were Muggles who tripped the wards and not Aurors.” 

“It’s my fault, sir. I got distracted when is saw galleons in the box and picked one up. The contents of the box were where the charm was affixed and when I touched it, the fire started.” Harry huffed. “We did get a few things before we had to run,” Harry added before dropping his charmed rucksack down on a desk. “I dunno how much information we can get from this, but we grabbed all we could before the flames charred all of our arses.” He opened the top flap and stepped back. “I dunno if anything is dangerous or not. We grabbed boxes after boxes and Ron apparated us out of there.” 

“It’s the kidnapper’s fault for setting it, Potter. Don’t blame yourself.” Director Robards waved his wand over the top of the backpack and levitated everything out of there. Boxes flew out of the rucksack spilling contents all over the floor. Potions rolled all over along with galleons and journals. Robards swirled his wand and levitated two changes of grotty pants as well as a dirty trainer and a naff jumper. “I doubt these will help us but we’ll send it to the lab for investigation.” 

Harry stacked the boxes on the closest desk and opened the top. The first one was filled with journals. “What do you make of this?” Harry inquired. The journals were filled to capacity with elegant script, much better than anything Harry could read. 

“I’ll send it down to the stenography pool for dictation to our files. We don’t have time for more journal reading. That’ll be for me later once they are legible.” 

Ron picked up one and fingered the binding before opening it. The penmanship was the same but it still read like gibberish. “Shite,” Ron growled. “You’d think the bastard would have an address somewhere in his possessions, where we could find him.” 

“Ron, he has. I just have to sort another two hundred pages of legal documents to find it. It’s not like I’ve not been working on that task _all day_.” Hermione huffed. “But then he probably had something and it went up in magical flames.” 

“You’re not helping, Hermione. Shite, what I wouldn’t give for an extra half dozen Aurors for some bloody legwork. They could help you sort that mess you’re digging through.” Ron turned to the Director. “Don’t we have more files on this asshole?” 

“I’m working as fast as I can, Ronald, but this script takes time to sort through. This is worse than your notary documents for the Wizengamot.” She huffed and the quill went back to scratching on the floating parchment. 

“Leave me out of this, Hermione.” 

“I will when you quit blaming me for how slow we’re going on trying to find Mum.” 

“I’m not blaming you, Hermione. I’m just saying – “

“That’s enough, both of you. I’ve already given you everything we have regarding his information. The original case files from 1980 through 1998 are gone. It seems someone in the Ministry during the run-up to the Coup banished them all. Whether they are misfiled, which is entirely possible, or destroyed, we probably won’t know for decades or centuries.” Director Robards growled. “Auror Weasley, Procure the memories from Potter and Smythe as well as you and Williamson regarding the mission today. You also are tasked with the debriefing and writing up the after-action report. Potter, you and Smythe head back out and search the rubble for anything possibly intact. Until Weasley finds us the information, it’s our only lead at the moment and time is wasting.” 

Ron stood there glaring at Hermione while she was scowling and dictating wordlessly. “Now, Weasley!” 

Ron grunted before turning heel and storming out of the squad bay. 

“Everyone, leave Weasley and Granger be. They’ve got information to distill for us.” 

“Take the short stack. That’s a starting point,” she grumbled before getting back to her work. 

The men walked off a short distance to give Hermione some space and quiet to work. “What’s this, the distilled information?” 

Hermione’s quill scratched across parchment in her legible script while Percy stepped on the other side of the Director, keeping an eye on her. 

“Yes sir, it is. This is the first four additional properties we’ve decided are a good possibility where he’s hiding. It’s in the area you outlined in your mission briefing; it’s also directly owned; and it’s a more recent acquisition into the family property, which means the 1800’s instead of further back.” 

“I’ll take what I can find right now, frankly.” Director Robards scanned the various sheets of parchment for which property might be a potential hiding place. “This one here, down in Kent, looks promising. His heritage, distant as it might be, being French, might prove a good choice.” 

“Yes, sir, your choice, but that’s why we pulled it out of the records.” 

“But here’s one in Essex, too. Both are close to London, and there are plenty of wide open areas there. Plenty of places to have a residence under a Fidelus Charm and none the wiser,” he finished while looking at the documents. “Do you have anything else right now, Weasley?” 

“None at the moment, sir. I’m going to take a short break and inform the Minister and get back to working.” 

“Are you OK working long hours on this case, Weasley?” 

Percy stopped in his tracks and turned towards the head Auror. “If it were your family who had been kidnapped, wouldn’t you work ‘til you dropped to bring them home? Wouldn’t you forgo all manner of comfort while they were missing?” Percy took his glasses off and resembled his father. Percy finished wiping the lenses before returning them to his nose. “While you were out in the field subverting the regime as best as possible, I was working double shifts for that vicious Toad, documenting every single solitary thing that witch did. She paid me handsomely for it, and it was the petard for which we incarcerated her with.” 

He took a deep breath before biting his lip. “You question my allegiance and my abilities, Director, and that’s fine. But I can sleep at night because I’ve had plenty of people meet me on the street and thank me for giving them _some_ closure in their lives regarding their still-missing loved ones. Sure, we had records of the ones who disappeared into the Ministry, going to Azkaban and all, but how many hundreds, if not thousands, were murdered and vanished without a trace? How many more Barty Crouch’s are there in our world, ones who disappeared without a single shred of evidence?” He snorted. “Not everyone has an _honorable_ death, like Madame Bones did.” 

“He’s right, you know.” 

Director Robards turned and saw Hermione hunched over her desk, stretching her back. “I’ll get back to the ledger in a moment, once I stretch this knot out.” A crack echoed through the room and Hermione signed in relief. “The only reason we have a rough estimate on the genocide of the Muggleborns and blood traitors by the regime was the confiscation of wands at the Ministry and at Malfoy Manor. Even then, if I know history reasonably well, we’re off by a factor of 2, at least, if not another magnitude.” 

“How do you know that, Granger? That’s sealed information under Wizengamot and Ministerial authority.” 

Hermione pulled a face and Robards cringed. “I know, Sir, because my depositions are part of sealed testimony. It’s locked under Mugwump Authority because of what happened. But It was mentioned while I was giving Crown’s Evidence.” 

“You legally can’t discuss that information outside of the court.” 

Hermione’s features turned even harder. “Like it or not, sir, but for me to do my job upstairs, I had to know some of this information, so we could help track down the ones who didn’t take that bloody mark on their arm. Not all fiends during the Riddle era in the Ministry wore Dark Marks. Some were just as vicious and nasty as the Death Eaters were, but did so willingly, hoping to hide once again if the political winds blew a different way. So, between Percy’s testimony of his meticulous notes and depositions from House Elves, who still aren’t considered sentient beings yet, we had more than enough evidence to charge and convict many for acts of cruelty that they would have gotten away with.” She snorted in disgust. “You might not like what I do but I’m damn good at it.” She shuffled off a little. “I’ll be right back. I need to find the ladies.” 

“I need you to finish this tonight, Granger.” 

Hermione turned back towards the Director. “Of course, sir. I still have 200 pages of information that I have to distill while Percy is gone. Furthermore, you’re welcome to criticize my methods but I’ve not heard a word of complaint about the results. Now if you’ll excuse me,” she spat before heading for the double doors of the department. 

Director Robards bit his cheek hard to keep from retorting at the swot sitting in front of him. 

“Eloise, I need parchment and ink, now!” He bellowed. The department assistant came running with his requested items with her. “Here, sir.” 

Gawain leaned over the other desk and penned a personal note to the Minister before sealing it with his wand. “Take this up to the Minister personally. He’s not to leave until he gives you an answer. Do you understand me?”

“Yes, sir. Remain there until Minister Shacklebolt gives me an answer.” He stalked back to his office after she left with the firm intention of downing a bottle of butterbeer and reviewing the reports from earlier.


	5. Forsaking all others

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Aurors catch a break in finding Molly's kidnapper along with some backstory on our un-named kidnapper, and Harry along with Percy speak up for their partners on the case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** To my readers – Thank you for Reading! This is a crime story and there are some sensitive elements in it (and probably can say in this chapter, too!) For those who haven’t started it, and you have a question about a potential trigger, ask away. Once again, this is a smut-free story since, in my humble opinion, it will completely detract from the plot. **Rated T** , for hard language and adult situations. Once again, no smut. I’ve written some drabbles to fill that need and niche. I’m just waiting for the all-clear for posting them.
> 
> My thanks to: the follows, favorites, the extensive constructively critical reviews, and the ones leaving Update Soon reviews. So here's soon! - _DG_

* * *

“I can’t believe Hermione – the nerve of her, berating me, in my own department no less. She had no right to say that to me. Bloody barking, that’s what she is.”

“Shut it Weasley. We still have to do a preliminary report for Robards on what we found in Essex and the other two sites in Yorkshire.” Auror Williamson didn’t look up from his own report while bickering with Ron. 

Ron rubbed his neck while trying to get all the details from the first place into his report. “I love my wife but she can be a right pain in the ass.” 

“I said shut it. The longer you whinge, the longer your ass is gonna be raked over by Robards and even longer ‘til we’re back out hunting this dumb bastard.” Auror Williamson pulled another sheet of parchment over and continued to write with haste. “I want this bloke as much as you do.” 

“Fuck,” Ron groaned before picking up the quill and putting it back on the parchment, scratching on the paper in front of him as fast as his fingers would write. “Been hours since Mum got snatched,” he muttered under his breath. 

“Yeah, and we’ve checked three places with no results and nearly bought it at the fourth.” Nigel continued writing. “So keep writing.” 

“Blimey, those first two looked as old as Stonehenge.” Ron cheeked back. 

“I reckon they were as close in age as that blasted place.” Auror Williamson added. Each one was writing as fast as Hermione. 

“Did you see the third one? It looked like it had been uninhabited for a hundred years.” Ron retorted. 

“Longer, probably,” Auror Williamson countered. 

“Weasley, Williamson. Reports are finished. Get your arses back in here,” Auror Jones snarled from the doorway. “Robards wants to see everyone.” 

The men leapt from their desks and chased after the retreating back of Senior Auror Hestia Jones. Their long strides were the only way they would keep up with the much smaller woman. “Smythe and Potter are back from Sheffield with bad news.” 

They raced back into the main department and saw the remaining Aurors on duty standing around the Director once again. 

“Now, to update everyone: Gringott’s is a wash and they told us where we could stick our collective wands unless we have the Mugwump’s signature on our warrant request. That’s impossible since he’s on Holiday in Crete and we can’t contact him.” A few groaned. “There was a warehouse fire in Sheffield and there were fatalities. Six Muggles perished when a connecting wall fell on them, trapping them in the blaze. 

“The MLS barrister who looks like he should still be in Primary is screaming at us, on behalf of the Constable and the Fire brigade. He’s got a ton of problems from the fire until the Obliviators smooth it over. ‘Til then, I’m getting my bollocks squeezed.” 

A few aurors spoke in hushed tones at the Director’s comment. They’d dealt with angry Obliviators before. 

“The fugitive in question warded his hiding place and had the investigating Aurors there not been diligent, there would have been more fatalities and more ruin. There will be a board of inquiry later regarding the entire situation. Yes, Potter tripped the curse on the counterfeit galleons but, from what I’ve been informed by Auror Williamson, the blame squarely lies on our kidnapper.” Harry stood a touch straighter since he wasn’t held completely responsible for the fire. “They escaped the conflagration with parcel boxes filled with potions, important papers, journals and various other possessions. One secretary in Stenography kindly deciphered a few pages of one journal.” He lifted a leather bound journal and showed it to the gathering. “The information she deciphered will be vital for prosecution once we arrest the wizard in question. It contains detailed notes regarding his actions and movements the last four years." 

“And this one,” he lifted a dark blue dragonskin journal from the attaché folder and pulled a face of disgust with what he was about to divulge. “This revolting journal documents all of the people he murdered, either on his own or on Voldemort’s orders. Succinctly, he has more magical blood on his hands than we could have possibly imagined. He was first prosecuted for five murders back in 1981. He was caught again in 1995 and tried for six more attempted murders. His journal admits to over a hundred fatalities, all by his wand.” 

Silence smothered the department for a second before voices crashed against one another. 

He put the leather binder down on the desk. He took a deep breath. “Aurors Smythe and Potter returned to the scene and came across a few more items that hadn’t burned in the fire.” Director Robards opened a dragonskin parcel and revealed a vault key and a bank passbook along with more papers. “This is information regarding his finances and where he has funds stashed but until Weasley finds us his current hiding place, we can only hold it for evidence and eventual prosecution.” 

Hermione hunched further into her tome and tried to ignore the obvious slight to her efforts. 

“Anything important?” Ron added. 

“Nothing immediately important, Weasley. We can’t access his vault with the key or take an accounting until we have a signature from the Mugwump. But from what the MLS forensic accountant tells us, the sod’s got money stashed everywhere, according to his bank passbook. No wonder why we couldn’t trace him: he’s got money in Gringott’s as well as various banks on the Continent. Just the letters of credit listed in here would be enough to buy a small island. Even if we seized his vault, he could live like a King in Greece the rest of his days.” 

“But we still don’t know where the git’s hiding, do we?” Auror Williamson asked from the back of the gathering. 

“No, we don’t. The only information relating to where our fugitive is hiding is one entry, dating a week ago. That was the other bit of information the secretary deciphered. It says, _‘New residence is ready for my guest. Doubt she’ll be staying long; can’t wait until Weasley gets here so I can dispose of that bloody traitor, too. DL would have been so proud to off those blood traitors. So would my dear brother.’_ ” 

“Well that does us a fat lot of good, I reckon.” Ron grunted out from the side of the gathering. “Still don’t know where he’s got Mum.” 

“The journals are more informative than your bellyaching, Weasley.” 

Ron snapped his jaws shut from the malicious quip. “Wanker,” He said under his breath. 

“Now, Weasley and Granger have given us another four properties that need to be cleared. They all have potential, either with location or distance from the Ministry.” The director looked at the two additional helpers who were still pouring over their ledgers, sifting information as fast as possible. “Since they aren’t finished, we have to consider alternative avenues to get the information we need. I’m sending the four back out to check the additional properties. We’re now at plus ten hours from receiving the note and standing around complaining won’t help us find her. The rest of you, get me ideas on how we can track this serial murderer. I want solutions in two hours. Keep in mind the manpower we have available, too. Dismissed.” 

The four Aurors departed again, this time for possibilities in Kent and Essex. 

“This better be our break,” Director Robards grumbled under his breath, “’cause it looks like it’s going to take a while.” He returned to his office to sift through the myriad of reports that were littering his desk. 

* * *

“Finally,” Hermione groaned before standing up and rubbing her aching back. “Been at this all day,” she muttered. “What time is it, about eight or so?”

“It’s half eleven, I reckon.” 

Hermione spun around and saw Percy’s head on the desk. 

“I wondered when you’d finish with those property records. By now you probably know the complete heritage of Wizarding Britain better than I do.” 

Hermione rolled her head, shaking her frazzled hair over her face. “Those last two hundred pages had so many addendums and codicils that it made cross-referencing tedious. I didn’t realize how much was in official records and I also doubt I scratched the surface on the properties that aren’t public, or held under charity trusts.” She blinked. “I just realized that I barely saw any entries for the Malfoys. I wonder how the do that?” 

“I know that and you’re right. Their holdings are under various charitable trusts since the 1700’s. But that’s not important right now. I’ll bet my last knut that they’re not holding Mum at the Malfoys.” 

“Why’s that? Is it because the Aurors have open access to all of their properties and will for another 3 years? Why wouldn’t they help him?” 

“Say what you will about them, Hermione, but they wouldn’t support this, not in their own precarious position. They aren’t that stupid. Do you think they’d violate the conditions of their negotiated parole to hide a fugitive and a kidnap victim? Do you think Lucius or Draco would be willing to be incarcerated for life, just to facilitate a kidnapping? No, I don’t think so.” 

Hermione crossed her arms while refusing to retort on his logic. Percy ignored her glaring looks while evaluating the stack Hermione compiled on her desk. 

“So how many do we have to hand over this time? There can’t be more than 10 more possible hiding places, not where he’d feel at home.” 

Hermione picked up the list and scanned it. “It’s just four more but there are six others, but I’m not as certain for them since they were related by marriage. I’m much more confident of the four in question.” She looked behind Percy and saw the even larger stack behind him. “Oh I hope we don’t have to go through the stack behind you.” 

Percy looked at the five one-foot stacks on the desk. “I’ll admit we’re up against a wand and a cliff at this point. It’d take a month by the entire Ministry to go through it, much less 2 ½ days.” 

Hermione rolled her neck to work the strain out. “Maybe we’ll get lucky.” 

“No, you mean Ron and Harry get lucky, I presume. It’s not like you and I will be going out into the field to actually check these locations.” Percy grimaced. “I’m pants when it comes to raising my wand now. I’d do it if need be, but any hesitation on my part would probably get someone seriously hurt.” 

Hermione put her head in her hands and tried to rub the crud out of them. “Of course you’re right. What am I thinking? We’re here to help, not travel to these residences and say, _‘Excuse me, do you have Molly Weasley kidnapped? No? Thank you for your time.’_ Yeah, sounds pretty barmy to me.” 

Percy cocked his head slightly and gave a ghost of a smirk. “You know, Hermione, when you’re exhausted after a hard day’s researching, you’re extremely snarky.” 

She laughed. “Ron tells me the same thing. Normally I get upset and we row a spell and then I’m fine.” 

“Shall I row with you until he returns? It might not be as energetic as he would offer. It is rather late.” 

“Thanks for the offer.” Hermione laughed harder. “You’re funny tonight.” 

“See, I have to laugh otherwise I’d lose my sanity. It was bad enough, losing Fred and trying to keep George alive. This entire thing is doing my head in. And thank you, for helping pull George out of the bottle.” 

Hermione stopped like she’d had a bucket of water dumped on her head. “Sorry. I lost myself for a moment.” She took a deep breath to clear her head of any amusement. “You don’t have to thank me again, Percy. I’m glad there was something I could do, even if it was completely mad.” 

“It’s fine. It’s not personal. We’re all coping as best as we can, given the circumstances.” 

Her face grew even more somber. “You know I’m doing everything I can to help, even if I’m not making friends in the department.” 

“I know. I’m right here with you.” Percy rubbed his neck and for a brief moment, Hermione saw the Weasley family resemblance. “I know my name is dirt and I accept it. I’m respected because I work directly for the Minister. And the situation is far beyond anything we’ve dealt with and since we’re not officially in the department, people look down upon us. But we can still help and I think all this,” he waved behind him, “is a testimony to it.” 

Percy took a deep breath. “Audrey really helped me get sorted once Kingsley took over.” He quit wringing his hands and laid them on his knees, squeezing them slightly. “She taught me healthy coping mechanisms and how to use them. But then I’m not like Ron and she’s not like you. We’re not likely to go back to our flat and row about it. We’re very different from you and Ron.” 

“Do you think Audrey will be able to help once Molly’s rescued?” 

“I dunno if she will be assigned the case. She’s doing a rotation on the Bites ward this quarter so she might not be available.” Percy looked around the room. It was almost too quiet with the few people who were working. 

“Wonder where everyone is? Shouldn’t we have heard something from the Director by now?” 

“Maybe they left us in here to work and they are conferring somewhere else.” Hermione stood and the pops of her knees echoed in the mostly empty department. “I guess I sat too long working on this mess.” 

The two of them left their desks and made their way towards the Director’s door at the end of the department. “We’ll knock and give him the information we’ve come up with. What he does with it now is out of our hands.” 

Percy knocked and heard a very short-tempered reply _Come in_ through the door. They opened the oak door to see Robards looking over piles of parchment strewn over his desk. “This is getting more messed up by the minute.” He looked up and saw the two at the door. “Please tell me you have more places where this rat’s hiding? I finished reading all of the intelligence reports from Weasley and Potter and trying to read this bloody journal.” 

“I’ll get it,” Hermione muttered and went back to the desk with another four feet of parchment. 

“Well, Weasley?” 

“We found another four possibilities. One’s in West Sussex, down on the coast in Portsmouth, as well as one in in Hampshire, and another up in Hereford. We found a fourth, but it’s on the Isle of Wight and that might be outside the search range. In addition to those, there are another six that are outside possibilities, either as properties via distant marriage or just outside the search scope.” 

The Director scrutinized Percy. Percy didn’t flinch under the withering gaze. “We’ll still check it out. Is there a _remote possibility_ stack you’ve not given me?” 

Percy stood up straighter. “Yes, sir. It’s about another hundred properties or so, either outside the search radius, older holdings or held in charitable trusts we can’t trace with those particular ledgers. We’ll keep that for you if you don’t find mum in this bit of research. Finally there are another 400 more that are _only if we’ve not found her yet_.” 

“Good going, Weasley. You’ve been a tremendous benefit to this case.” 

Percy shook his head with a grimace. “You’re thanking the wrong employee, sir. This was Hermione’s efforts. She’s amazing when she’s doing research.” 

“Well, anyway, good work Weasley.” 

“Here’s the list you asked for, sir.” She was standing there, holding the huge stack of parchment, but refusing to look at the director. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m heading home since I’m my efforts aren’t appreciated.” She dropped the stack on the director’s desk before stomping out of the office. 

“I never said I didn’t appreciate her efforts.” The Director’s ears turned slightly pink. “Barmy witch.” 

“She’s not barmy. She heard you dismiss her efforts, thanking only me.” 

“I didn’t.” 

“Good evening, sir.” Percy left the Director’s office and went looking for Hermione. 

“Bloody Weasleys,” Percy heard the director behind him as he was walking out of the office. The rest of his scathing epithets were lost in the silence of the department. 

“Prat,” he muttered when he didn’t see Hermione at the desk she had been working at all day or anywhere in the department. He stepped out of the department and found Hermione sitting on a lone bench some ways down the hall, well away from the wooden doors. She kept wiping her face without noticing her brother in law standing in front of her. 

Percy kept quiet while he waited for Hermione to speak up. He recognized how upset she was, from the sniffs punctuating the silence to the shaking hands that kept moving across her face, smearing what little make-up Hermione wore. She refused to acknowledge him, even if he was well within her personal space. 

“The Director was wrong for refusing to acknowledge your assistance. You’ve done more work in 10 hours than most could do in 10 days. He should give you an award for the volume of work you performed today.” 

“He has no right to dismiss me that way. I did the work of four people today and he can’t be bothered to say, _‘Thanks for the herculean efforts, Hermione,’_ or _‘You’ve been such a help.’_ No, he only sees you and dismisses my efforts, like some brainless idiot secretary. I shouldn’t care but I do, Percy.” She looked up at her brother in law and saw his reserved features. “Bet you a sack of galleons he’d not dismiss me if I was a Pureblood or even a Wizard. He’d fall over his feet if I was either one of those things. Would it break his back to thank me for my help?” 

“Budge up,” he said before he sat down next to her, not touching but sitting close enough for their mutual comfort. “You know you’ll be in charge someday, and he’ll be a pensioner wishing for his youth.” 

“Every single day, I’m fighting for respect, either from people I come in contact with, or from the various supervisors. I’m sick of having to claw every single compliment, every single acknowledgement. I couldn’t care less most of the time, but an occasional, ‘Well done’ wouldn’t be remiss. Face it, I have to be twice as good, for twice as long, to receive half the acknowledgement of the most incompetent buffoon in this whole bloody ministry.” Hermione rubbed her face with the sleeve of her blouse, ignoring the eye makeup that stained the cuff. “Even my husband undermines me in there. Sometimes I wonder if I made the right decision.” 

“He’s blinkered and you’ll be their supervisor shortly. We’d be in deep trouble if you hadn’t offered to help.” He held his hand out and felt her put hers in it. Hermione squeezed his hand before removing it from his grasp. 

“I’m thankful you’re helping but you’re family and that makes you biased.” 

“Rubbish. I’ve known you would be a force of change when I first met you years ago.” 

She turned to look at Percy. “You’re mad and you sell yourself short. You’ve done so much already.” 

“No, not mad. My ambition makes me blind to some things. I made choices that hurt the family and hurt my career, without even realizing it. My name will be tarnished for years because of my bad decisions. But you,” He looked sideways at Hermione and saw she had quit wiping her face, “you put up with so much when you know you’re making the right decision. You work to make things better. Sure, you step on toes often, but that means you’re getting things done.” 

“You think so, that all this effort and hassle are worth it?” 

“Yes, I do. I am biased regarding your work but I support you completely.” 

“Hey,” a quiet voice said in the hallway. Hermione had her wand out first, followed by Percy’s head turning. Hermione dropped her wand and smiled wanly. “You’re back,” she whispered. 

Ron knelt in front of Hermione and took her ink stained hands in his bruised and dirty oversized hands. “What happened?” She inquired. 

“Nothing bad happened this time, love.” He put her hands on his cheek for a moment before bringing them to her lap. “Boring hop, really.” 

Hermione squeezed his hands once before releasing them. “Anything?” 

Ron‘s face darkened. “No. Nothing on the next four. Three were abandoned and falling apart. Only Scabbers would feel at home in those places.” 

“And the other?” 

“There were no wards, no protection on the residence – nothing. The people living there were just a genial as can be. So yeah, that’s off.” 

“How’d you know?” 

“Smythe checked them while we were having a spot of tea. Nice old couple. We stayed long enough to make sure they weren’t possibly polyjuiced.” 

“Well, I found four more this evening and a second stack of six that are remote possibilities. We also have a third stack of a hundred that weren’t completely ruled out.” 

Percy stood up first, followed by Hermione. “Let’s go check back in, make our report, and see what to do from here.” 

She wobbled on her feet for a second, but Ron was immediately next to her, holding her while she regained her balance. “Please tell me you ate something today.” 

She scowled at Ron. “No, dear, I didn’t, not since I was asked to help. I’ve been rather busy trying to distill a thousand pages of property records to find Mum. Eating was last on my priority list since you and everyone else, except Percy, were biting my head off.” She snorted and made her way towards the double doors. “So I’ll get my things, go home and eat, since my assistance isn’t needed or acknowledged in this whole mad affair.” 

Ron watched her leave in a strop. “What made her beastly today?” 

“The Director thanked me for my help, but didn’t tell her the same. She heard him and has been upset since.” He looked at his taller brother and shrugged. “Your earlier berating didn’t help either, I reckon. But he’s the reason she’s brassed off.” 

“But that was earlier!” 

“You know better than I do how Hermione gets when she’s anxious. Maybe it’s the stress of the situation. She did work over 10 hours straight with only a loo break. But then women can be barmy sometimes.” 

“Yeah, I know. I’ll set things right when I see her in the morning.” 

The men left the hallway and made their way to the Director’s office. Sure enough, Robards was going over the preliminary after action reports from the previous four residences checked. 

“So you say that the people at the place in East Sussex were magic free and not imperiused? No Polyjuice?” 

“That’s right, sir. All clear there. They weren’t ‘juiced either.” 

“The rest of the lot didn’t look hinky either?” 

“No sir, nothing besides the warehouse that was torched earlier today.” 

“I’m glad we can mark more off.” Director Robards handed over parchment to Auror Williamson. “Here’s the last four that were found. Check those places and report back to me. If they are a bust too, we’ll resort to other means, like asking the Malfoys. They might know more about this git than we do. So go investigate, return, then get some sleep somewhere. This looks like a longer operation than we first envisioned.” 

“But what about Mum? She’s still missing.” 

“I know that, Weasley. But it won’t do anyone a bit of good if you’re on no sleep for 3 days and we catch a break. So my orders are this – check the last four, report back, and then off the clock for eight hours.” 

Harry stepped forward. “Who is taking over the case while we’re off eight hours?” 

“I’ll have the ladies in Stenography working with the journals you retrieved. I’ll also request information from the librarians and archivists in MLS to check files and pensive memories from earlier trials as well as transcripts. But we don’t have enough spare Aurors to verify what you’ve checked or to do follow-up reports. No, no one will be doing that tonight. That’ll be tomorrow once we know more.” 

“Merlin, this is bullshite.” Ron snarled under his breath. “We need more men on the case.” 

“And this is what we have to work with, Weasley. So quit your bitching and get on it.” 

“Yes, sir.” He turned and stalked out. 

“Potter,” Director Robards growled. “A minute.” 

Harry stopped short. The door was closed and locked by the director. “Potter, if you can’t rein him in immediately, I’m sacking him. I know the case is a dog’s dinner but there’s no excuse for insubordination.” 

“You sack him, sir, and I’ll make myself redundant, effective immediately.” 

Robards stood from his chair, letting it roll into the bookcase behind his desk. He worked his jaw for a moment before snarling at the younger Auror. “I’m sick of your insubordination too, Potter.” 

“Fantastic, sir but Molly is my Mum, too. So I’ll be arsed if you treat Ron like he’s dodgy right now when he’s furious. Wouldn’t you want the entire power of the Ministry hunting the kidnapper if it was your wife or daughter taken? I know I would.” 

“You’re still on report.” 

Harry’s expression grew harder. “File it. I’m still hunting for Mum’s kidnapper, whether as an Auror or as myself.” 

Director Robards turned a bright shade of maroon. “When this case is over, I’m demoting your arse back to apprentice, you and Weasley too. Both of you are pathetic excuses for Aurors.” 

“That’s your call, sir. But you want pathetic? Pathetic is how I’ve been treated by this Ministry, time and time again. I’ve had Dementors set on me and then prosecuted for breaking the law for protecting myself and my cousin. I’ve been called Mad by a previous Minister of Magic. But we’re the same pathetic men who came to the Ministry’s call because there were twelve Aurors left alive after the Thicknesse regime crumbled. We’re the same pathetic Aurors who caught Rookwood and are still hunting Avery and Dolohov, much less dedicating all our time to catching this rogue Death Eater.” Harry put his hands on the desk and scowled at the older man. “Pathetic men don’t stay on and help catch fugitive Death Eaters. They go play Quidditch, or work with their brother making galleons hand over fist. So pardon me for not being gutted at what you think of us, sir.” 

Harry stalked out of the office, leaving Aurors Smythe and Williamson standing like statues. 

“Well, don’t just stand there with a thumb up your collective arses. Get out there and find me that witch!” 

The other two scampered after Auror Potter, leaving the Director feeling like a husk. “Moody, no wonder why you were an irascible old shite after you retired. How the hell did you survive these kids called Aurors? Nothing but self-centered entitled little twats, they are.” 

“And you’re long in tooth, Gawain.” Kingsley stepped into the office and closed the door. He sealed it further and turned back towards the Director. “Report?” 

“I’ve just sent the pathetic twits out to check another four places tonight. I figure they won’t be back ‘til morning, if we’re lucky.” Gawain took off his reading glasses and reached back for his chair. “How’d we get such a crop of prats as Aurors?” 

“Do you really hate them that much, Gawain?” 

“The Seniors, namely Jones, Smythe, and Williamson, they’re fine. They know protocol and follow it. The juniors, every last one of them, Weasleys, Potter and especially Granger, are driving me barmy. They have no respect for authority and have no appreciation for the methods and processes that work. I know we’re up against the clock but their attitude is driving the whole thing pear shaped.” 

Kingsley snorted. He pulled his wand and _accio_ ’d two glasses. “Open that drawer of yours and pour us a few fingers of whisky.” 

Gawain did and held the bottle up. 

“Scottish Muggle spirits and its 16 years old: You have excellent tastes, old man, but why Muggle?” 

“Regular Firewhiskey gives me a tiresome bellyache so I stick with this stuff. It burns but not in the gut.” Gawain poured two fingers for the old Aurors. “To Mad Eye Moody, who fought to the last.” 

“Mad-Eye,” Kingsley responded in kind. 

They drank down their beverage. 

“I’m not staking my pension on Molly coming through this alive, and in one piece.” Gawain poured another 2 fingers of scotch into his glass before draining it too. “I’ve seen too many bodies and too many reports to think anything other than the worst. But then you know that too, I reckon.” 

“I adore Molly but I’m bracing for the worst outcome. We both know how ruthless these sods are when it comes to blood debts.” Kingsley shook his head. “You think the kids know what we’re up against?” 

“I doubt it,” Gawain tipped the bottle into the Minister’s glass and poured another two fingers for his former mentee and now supervisor. “No, they don’t. They can only guess at what he’s capable of, I reckon.” Gawain picked up the file on his desk and wove it warily. “Fighting in battle is completely different than a blood debt wand fight. This sod’ll have some nasty surprises waiting for us. I’ll stake my wages this month on that. But then you know of him better than I would.” 

“By reputation only. He’s much older than I am, closer in age to Arthur and Molly than I am to him. He was only a couple of years behind her, and in the same year as Andromeda. When I talked with her via Floo earlier, Andromeda said he’s always been nasty to women but he was more virulent towards Molly, for some reason. I asked but she said she didn’t know why he would be, since he was four years younger. I dunno. Maybe he’s been holding a grudge or maybe he’s just completely barmy” 

Robards shuffled the papers on his desk, not seeing the words floating in front of his face. “Do you think he’s used old Pureblood magic on her? Do you think that how he’s keeping her confined and possibly docile?” 

Kingsley put his glass on the desk and looked at his old mentor, dragged out of retirement and hiding to run a cobbled department that was still short-staffed years later. “He’s not looking for a lover and a partner. He’s not going to kill Arthur to take her as a bride. No, Molly’s not his type in the least, even if she is a Pureblood from a respectable family. He lost that opportunity when Andromeda walked out on their arrangement all those years ago.” 

“So what can you remember about him? You’d know more about him than I would. I wasn’t the one to capture him in 1981 and I was comfortably in retirement in ’95.” 

Kingsley sat back in his chair and made himself comfortable. “His name and family fortune was what made him palatable company. He is otherwise beneath contempt, at least in polite society, even before he was arrested. Andromeda can’t stand him. I don’t blame her at all since I couldn’t put up with him, the few times I came in contact with him. Otherwise, he’s got more upbringing than that.” Kingsley pulled his wand from his robes and twirled it in the room. “No, he’d use family magic to control her, keep her docile, including a few nasty spells to harm her.” 

“But not so much he’d kidnap a middle aged witch while shopping for groceries. He might try to _imperio_ her, make her raise a wand against her spouse.” Gawain pushed his glass away from his hands. 

“Arthur isn’t going to her. I won’t allow it. I’ll lock him in a cell first.” 

“Then one of her kids, even if we rescue her.”

Kingsley shook his head. “No, I’m worried that he’ll have a curse set on her, one that will kill her if we try to rescue her. Hell, there’s plenty of dark magic, shite that’s not taught at Hogwarts, that he could use on her.” 

“You think he’d put a second binding on her, to keep her there?” 

“Bastard’s probably got something like that on her, since we’ve not heard a peep from her. It’s the least he’d use on her.” 

“If he did, it’d be something nefarious, like the old Wizards would use during the bonding ceremony? That’d make sense. It’d keep her docile and compliant and he’d not have to keep her locked in a dungeon or someplace where she could make an escape.” 

“If that’s the case, then we’ll have our hands full once we find where he’s hiding. Merlin knows what spells the sod was taught in the family.” 

“She won’t come along quietly if he’s put a second binding spell on her. You know the records as well as I do. She’ll fight anyone, even her own children, if they try to take her away from him. At least that’s what I remember from my Grandmother’s stories.” 

“And if we did get her released from the binding, there’s no guarantee that she’ll be sane from the release. Stronger women have broken their mind in anguish with the conflicting bindings. That doesn’t include anything he’s cursed her with.” 

“It might be a mercy to kill her if he did that.” 

“Don’t you say that, even in jest. Weasley would feed you to a dragon if he heard you say that.” 

“I’m not worried about that whinging prat.” Gawain banished his glass and put away the scotch. 

“I’m not talking Ron, Gawain. I’m talking Arthur.” Kingsley put his glass on the desk too. “But one thing at a time. We have to find them first, dear friend, before we can decide how to get him and save her. This’ll be no fun, storming the castle.” 

“It’s gonna take a miracle.”


	6. For Richer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Auror team continues to verify locations where the kidnapper has Molly hidden. The team also uses any available means to find a way into the found bank vault.

* * *

“It’s gonna take a miracle.”

“Do we honestly have any of those left, after everyone else we know perished?” 

“I dunno, Gawain. But if anyone can make a miracle, it’s those three that you discount so much.” 

“So what is it with these kids? They all act like they’ve got a Bludger up their arse when it comes to authority. I’ve been an Auror going on fifty years now and this bunch is the first group who are insolent to a man. What gives?” 

“Oh, I’ll tell you some of it.” 

Kingsley talked for an hour, sharing quite a bit about Harry, Ron and Hermione, too. He didn’t divulge some things, for those were sealed by his Authority to the Wizengamot. Others weren’t his story to tell. But he had enough to tell. 

“Bloody hell, it’s no wonder why those snot nosed sods have problems with authority. I’m surprised they are working for us.” 

“I had to convince them there was a chance to change the Ministry for the better. So far, it’s not working that well, is it?” 

“They’re all insubordinate gits. Weasley whinges his arse off. Potter thinks he runs the department at 22, bloody arrogance on his part. The bureaucrat who works for you is maddeningly civil yet just as rude. And I won’t even bring up Granger. She’s haughty, arrogant, and righteous pain in the ass. She thinks she’s too good to take her husband’s name like a good witch does, much less doing a man’s work in the ministry. I know she’s smart but she’s also too ambitious for her own good. What gives with that?” 

Kingsley barked out a laugh. “That witch will be Minister someday. She’s got a mind to make the rest of us look like dirt scrabbled sods, and she’s got some righteous indignation in her because of her heritage. She’s had to fight for everything she’s earned, and she’s earned everything she’s accomplished. No one handed her a bloody thing.” Kingsley swallowed the rest of the scotch in his glass. “So you might be wise to cut them all some slack and know they are the future of the Ministry. For them, and the others who survived Hogwarts, it’s either ride with them or get trampled.” 

“Are we going to be trampled, Kingsley? You honestly think those kids will change our world?” Robards cheeks flushed slightly under the scotch he’d imbibed. He opened the drawer again and pulled the bottle back out, pouring another two fingers for himself. 

“Yeah, I reckon they will so you might consider other methods. These aren’t the Aurors of old. These kids have been tempered in literal fire and survived it. Also, you might reconsider Granger. She’s the toughest one of the bunch, frankly.” 

“Then why’s she not an Auror? Why is she slinging papers in some dead end department?” 

“She’s a lowly bureaucrat because she’s laying the foundation of fundamental change for our way of life. She believes in the Law, and Justice, and will fight when the law is wrong. She’s righteous in her task and at some point, she’ll transfer to MLS and then everyone will either respect her and help, or get crushed.” 

“So I ask again – why’s there and not here or MLS? If she’s that tough, she needs to be helping us, not working on Elf genealogy or Werewolf rights. She needs to be in here, arresting the last of the Death Eaters and the other sodding traitors who buggered up things.” 

“Give her time, old friend. When she’s ready to transfer, watch what will happen.” Kingsley stood up from the chair and laid down the glass in front of him. “Way things are going, you’d be wise to work with her instead of having your hands full fighting against her.” 

“She needs to do things my way, not the other way around. I’m the director for a reason, not her.” 

Kingsley smiled. “Then I hope your back is in good shape when she steps on it when she’s promoted.” 

Gawain stared at his formed acolyte. “What about the other two? They’re both on report, for insubordination. They should be apprentices, with their attitudes.” 

Kingsley laughed. “It’s your department and how you run it but for the sake of time, I’d just file it and deal with it quietly. Potter will be running this department before I retire, that’s for certain. So you’d better get used to him standing up for you, and against you.” 

“And the other? He’ll be burned out in a year, with his temperament. His personality isn’t right for an Auror.” 

“He’ll be fine. I’ve seen him in action, remember? Then again, I seem to recall Moody mentioning some bloke, with ginger hair and a chip on his shoulder. Turns out he’s a good Auror too, I reckon.” Kingsley smirked at the older man behind the desk and turned to walk out. “Gawain.” 

“Yeah.” Kingsley left the Director behind his desk. The alcohol was wearing off and Gawain was getting a headache from drinking that much scotch on an empty stomach. 

* * *

“Bloody hell, I’m sick of doing this the hard way. I’m sick of this shite. It’s been one long fucking night with almost nothing to show for it.”

“Shut your gob, Weasley. We’re almost done.” Auror Williamson lit his wand and was scanning the area for any obvious signs of magic. Their Ministry approved landing point was a grove of trees thick enough, with additional enchantments, to hide anyone apparating. Sodium lights from the back parking area of a convenience store illuminated their hiding place. 

Ron’s stomach growled. “Need something to eat if we don’t find the fucker here. Order of battered sausages and chips should do.” 

Auror Smythe grumbled in assent. “I’m game for that too.” 

“Shut it, all of you.” Auror Williamson pointed his wand at the other two before turning back towards the property in question. Harry stayed silent, watching the senior auror’s back. 

The others locations, in East Essex, Yorkshire and the Isle of Wight, proved fruitless. But then again, they weren’t warded or hidden from view. Maybe this was going to take longer than expected and they would have to hunt him down in crevices and cornices. It could be that they were under-estimating the capabilities of their kidnapper. Time was ticking against them. They’d probably have better luck in the morning, checking the sites again. 

The four Aurors went quiet as they approached the final possible location of the night. They crossed an empty roadway and traversed the scrubland looking for the cottage in question. Salty wind blew across each of their faces. Harry shivered most of all, standing closest to the lakefront. 

“ _Nox_. Weasley, you and Smythe, check the area. We should be getting close to the residence in question. I don’t want anyone tripping a ward.” 

Ron pulled his wand and cast the first spell. He pointed it towards the last known location of the residence – and it ricocheted into the sky. “Fuck, we’ve got something.” 

“Everyone, freeze!” 

The remaining three stopped in their tracks. Ron looked down in the scrub grass under his feet and saw the eerie glow in the sand just a foot in front of his large feet. Harry was inside the glowing sand, shining brightly on his boots. “Shite. Apparate to our fall-back point, behind the closed kwik mart,” Williamson bark as he twisted into the darkness. “We might have tripped a ward.” 

All four Disapparated silently, landing in the concealed apparition point behind a convenience mart. 

“What the hell was that?” Harry growled. “That was a ward in the sand. I’ve never heard a ward set that way.” 

“First one we’ve come across, I reckon,” Auror Smythe added. “You ever seen one of those?” 

Auror Williamson shook his head. “Never knew it was possible to put it in sand.” 

“What about the Muggles who walk the path surrounding the park?” Ron checked his clothes for anything. “Harry, get your ass over here.” He pulled him into the light to check him over. 

“Bet it’s got a Muggle repelling charm closer to the residence. That’s what I’d do.” Auror Williamson ran his wand over the other three to make sure they were spell free. 

“Well, shite. We came in from the north, along the lakefront, right? Bet it’s warded that way to keep people off their stretch of the beach there.” Ron looked around the darkness of the parking lot and saw nothing remiss. 

“We did leave the path along the roadway. Maybe if you get ten feet beyond the path you trip the ward.” Auror Williamson said. 

Harry scratched his cheek. “Wonder how long it’d been set like that? Decades? Centuries?” 

“That’d make sense to me: plenty of pikers who jealously guard their property that way. Weasley, doesn’t your family have wards on the property?” Jasper Smythe cheeked. 

“Course we do, you git. But then we’re the family of blood traitors. Not like we’d invite the sod over for tea, would we?” 

“Shut it, all of you.” Auror Willliamson checked them over once more. No one was showing any ill effects of the activated spell and no one seemed to have had any other problems. “I’m sending my Patronus to the Ministry. We’re onto something and we’re going to proceed cautiously this time. If this is the place, we don’t want to spook the bugger into running.” 

The men took off after the lead Auror, traversing the road and making their way to the stretch of the beach where they first encountered the trip spell. 

“Watch those feet, Weasley.” 

“That’s my Mum that’s missing. You think I want to muck this up? We’re doing things by the book, and once we have the bastard, then y’all keep me from throttling the fucker, alright?” 

Aurors Williamson and Smythe smirked at one another. “Anyway, this is our first good lead we’ve had looking for the bugger. Let’s not cock it up with incompetence.” 

Auror Smythe looked at Ron in particular. “Watch those size 12s would ya?” 

“Dad would have my bollocks for desk paperweights if we lost him. Hermione’s take my tadger too!” 

“You’re whipped, Weasley.” Nigel Williamson added. “Not even married a year and she is holding your bollocks for ransom.” 

“Look, I married up, no matter what you sods think.” Ron grinned and was quite thankful it was so dark they couldn’t see his face flush bright red. “I’m not going to muck things up. It’s not worth it.” 

“Just point your wand forward. I reckon I’d like to be intact once we return.” Jasper cheeked again. “I got a date with a bird this morning. She works at St. Mungo’s on the overnight shift.” 

“Git,” Ron bit back. 

The four set off slowly towards the residence, keeping a close watch on any potential wards. They crossed the road, which was now deserted at half three. They found the path they took earlier, keeping watch via spells to keep from tripping a ward once more. Within a few feet, they found simple caterwauling charms, set furthest from the possible residence. 

“Alright, disillusion yourself and we go in silently. Keep your wand lit to show the path for the rest of us and shoot red sparks if there’s a problem.” 

They cast the requisite charms and went along the previous path. One lone blue wand led them along a fox trail towards the middle of what looked like a second lake. “Can’t be serious, can they?” Ron muttered darkly. 

Red sparks went off a few feet in front of him. He stopped and held his breath. 

One blue wand tip illuminated and they made their way forward. 

Ron stopped and kept his breath as quiet as his pounding heart would allow. 

“We can’t go any further this way. There’s a strong Fidelus charm erected here.” 

“Everyone, stay mindful but we need to know how big this perimeter is. Weasley, you and Potter head south. We’ll go west and see how big this place is.” 

The two groups took off and met up on the opposite side, away from the lake, ten minutes later. 

“It’s not as bad as we thought. I was expecting most of this area to be protected.” 

Ron stared across the inky darkness. “It’s still a bloody big area that’s protected. You’d think there was a country house behind those wards.” 

“It could be a small one ‘cause of the area or it could be something like your folks have, with outbuildings and such. But we’re right buggered since we can’t get inside it, not without some serious magical firepower.” 

Harry looked at the two senior Aurors. “What about a Curse breaker?” 

“Last bugger we had did something wrong and got incinerated by Fiendfyre. That was ’97 if I reckon right.” Williamson spoke quietly. 

“Yeah, none of us sat for a month with the fury Scrimgeour had for the department. Everyone thanked Merlin that we had our bits after that month.” Smythe added. 

“No,” Ron spoke up, “what if we got one to help us, help break it so we could see what we’re looking at?” 

“Yeah, and you think you can just pull one out of your cloak like Dumbledore?” Williamson was looking a bit cheesed off. 

“No, you gits. His brother is one, for Gringott’s. He’d help, if allowed.” 

“Bet Robards will lose a nut for that idea.” 

“Never hurts to ask, I reckon.” Harry stood there looking smug. 

“Fine. Smythe’ll stay here and keep watch. We’ll report back to the department with our findings. And I’ll make your proposal, Potter. But if he says no, don’t argue.” 

“Fine.” Harry turned and winked at Ron. 

“Thanks,” Ron mouthed back. 

Three Aurors apparated away from the protected property. They landed without a sound outside the ministry to make their way down towards their department. They loaded into a lift, riding it down in near silence. 

Except that Ron kept squirming, like he had Pig in his cloak. 

“Ron, stop fidgeting.” 

“Harry, she was right there. I mean, right there, on the other side of the barrier, and sod all, we couldn’t get to her. Why couldn’t you just let me get after her? Merlin’s saggy bollocks, she doesn’t –“

“I already told you, we can’t go in with wands a firing. We argued about that 12 hours ago. We go in that way, he kills her. So quit saying that.” 

“Shite, she needs to be home.” 

“And we’ll bring her home. We just have to do it where she’s not killed. You know that better than I do.” 

“Shite, what if we’re wrong and that wasn’t the place. What if the sod’s hiding somewhere else? What if Mum’s hurt. I swear, if the sod hurt her,” Ron tightened his hand into a fist to keep from acting further. 

“Stop it, now. You’re going to drive yourself around the twist and everything’ll be mucked up inside your head. You want to do your head in? Get Hermione to take care of you but you have to keep your wits.” 

Ron stopped squirming in the lift. 

“Thanks Harry.” 

“Glad I could help. Get your head on straight before we go in there. Got it?” 

The three rode the rest of the way in silence, each mired in their own thoughts. They debarked and went straight into the department. Only a few of the support staff were working, the rest sent home to live like normal people. 

“Blimey, I bet Hermione’s incensed I wasn’t back before she left.” 

Harry checked his watch. “Nah, mate. I bet she’s home sleeping and will return to work shortly to get caught up on her own work.” 

“I hope so. I was irritated at her last night. I dunno what got me in a strop but it doesn’t seem that important now.” 

“I’m sure she’ll remind you of it when you see her again.” Harry smirked at his best mate. 

Ron grinned sheepishly. “Yeah, just what I need right now, a row with her on top of everything else.” 

“You think we can grab a bite before going back to our flat? I know you’re knackered too.” 

“Yeah, I could use a kip before we come back on duty.” 

“Williamson, bring those two sorry sacks of shite in here and report!” 

The three went to the director’s office and closed the door. 

“Where’s Smythe?” 

“That last place, in Portsmouth, seems the logical location. Place has a Fidelus charm all around it. It covers about 10 acres total, and backs up to a small lake that’s adjacent to a larger lake. I don’t know the history of the area but it makes sense. It’s secluded, off the beaten path but also accessible. You’d never realize it was there unless you’re looking for it. Auror Williamson took a deep breath. “I left Auror Smythe there to keep watch until he’s relieved later this morning. He was going to set Anti-apparition wards around the property until we could get a good look at it later this morning.” 

“Anything else?” 

“Well, we approached the residence from the north and we came across wards in the sand, on the north part of the area. We retreated in case we tripped some wards but nothing happened that we noticed.” 

“Sounds like you got bloody lucky on some proximity charms erected around the perimeter of the property. I’m surprised there weren’t nastier surprises when you broke that first ward.” Robards pulled quill and parchment from his desk drawer and hastily scribbled some notes. “Continue.” 

Harry stepped forward. “Everyone did a thorough check and there were no traces of magic on anyone. It might have been ancient property boundaries, set like a trespass spell. But since we didn’t hear anything, it might have been set by a prior owner.” 

Auror Williamson added, “That’s possible, sir. But the Fidelus charm is going to hinder our efforts, unless we can possibly bring in a curse breaker to breach the magic.” 

“Weasley put you up to that request, didn’t he?” Ron bristled under the accusation. 

“No, sir, Potter actually suggested it. And since Tomlinson got his arse handed to him a few years back, we’ve not had another in the department.” 

“You two sods are going to be the death of me, I reckon.” 

Harry and Ron grinned at one another. “Yes, sir,” they replied in unison. 

“But it’s still a good idea,” Ron added. 

“Anything else to report?” 

“No, sir. We think he’s in there but can’t be sure unless we get those wards breached.” 

“Fine, then. Weasley, ask your brother if he can assist. But if he refuses, we’re buggered until we think of another way inside that perimeter. Now go get some sleep. We’ve got a ton of shite to deal with tomorrow, not including updating the Minister on how the case is going.” 

Harry and Ron turned to leave. “Sir, if we do break the warding, what then?” 

Robard’s face turned hard. “Then comes the hard part – getting information and devising a rescue plan. Now, go get some sleep and be back on at 1pm. Dismissed.” 

Ron nodded before they left. “Our flat or to Shell Cottage? I bet Fleur’s already awake and making tea.” 

“Would Bill be awake yet?” 

Ron checked his watch. It was already five. “Yeah, he’s always been an early riser. And with Vic, he’d not get much chance to sleep in.” 

“We’ll go by Shell Cottage first, then home for a nap.” 

“You think Hermione will be upset if we’re a little later getting home?” 

“’s possible, but this is more important.” 

“Alright, let’s run see Bill and go from there.” 

* * *

Ron watched Harry step through the wards inside the protection of Shell Cottage before following him inside. He enjoyed the time spent there, now, with his brother and family, even if all the memories weren’t necessarily pleasant.

He stepped up to Harry and waited. He knew Fleur was awake from seeing her through the kitchen window, possibly making tea. “Might as well wake the weasels.” 

“You’re a laugh, Ron.” 

“It’s an old joke, courtesy of Uncle Bilius. He was a laugh at weddings. I miss that bugger since I never got to know Uncles Gideon and Fabian. Charlie says they were even more a laugh than Fred and George.” 

Ron knocked first, his large knuckles rapping on the salt dried wood. Fleur opened the door, shining bright in the darkened doorway, with her wand pointing at them. “Ron, ‘Arry, come in.” 

The men stepped into the warm kitchen and were greeted with hugs and kisses on cheeks. “I wasn’t expecting you. Any word on Mum?” 

“No and we can’t talk much but we will need Bill’s help.” 

“How’d Dad?” 

“He’s asleep upstairs. I caught him trying to sneak out three times. The last two, he was besides himself with upset. I gave him a sleeping draught after the third attempt and putting a sticking charm on him to keep him inside the house.” Fleur took a deep breath. “He’ll be out a few more hours and then I’ll have my hands full again.” 

“Good, you’ll need it. _Merci_ ,” Ron kissed her on the cheek. 

“Tea? Coffee? Croissants?” 

“Yeah, and then we’re going back to the flat.” 

Bill walked in shortly thereafter, while Ron was tucking into his third croissant and second cup of tea. Harry was finishing his second croissant along with his cup of tea. “Morning. I was wondering when you’d pop in.” 

“We didn’t finish ‘til an hour ago. We came by because we’re in need of your help.” 

“My help?” Bill sat down and was rewarded with poached eggs, croissants, churned butter, and apricot preserves. “Doesn’t the department have a curse breaker on staff?” 

“It seems they’ve not had one in years. The last one screwed up and got incinerated.” 

Bill shrugged. “Yeah, that happens. That’s why curse breakers are paid so well, a king’s treasure if you will.” Fleur gave him a dirty look. “You know it’s true, dear. Curse breakers don’t all have long and exciting lives. Only beasts like me seem to live charmed lives.” 

Fleur snorted before turning back to the oven. 

“Anyway, we think we found the residence where he’s got Mum, but it’s under a Fidelus charm. We know they can be broken.” 

“Yeah, but the cost is extremely high. Normally, to break one, you have to use blood magic, and I don’t know if we have anyone who can give us what we need?” 

“What do you mean?” Harry shoved the rest of the warm croissant in his mouth. 

“Well, to even have a chance at breaking a Fidelus charm, you need a blood relative and a sacrifice, if you will. The sacrifice is rather simple – payment in blood. Sure, you can use overwhelming magical force, but the violation of the International Statute of Secrecy is a long stint in Azkaban. So, depending on the owner of the property and who set the charm, there might not be many options available.” 

Harry looked far away for a moment, deep in his memories, at the last time he encountered a blood sacrifice. 

Ron put down his tea cup. “Well, since the bloke is the last of his line, and we don’t think there are any blood relatives of his still alive, we might be out of luck.” 

“No, but I do have an idea,” Harry added quietly. “What if we had someone who was entitled, by blood, to pass the wards?” 

“That would work, provided the Fidelus charm hadn’t been reset since the person in question was allowed onto the property.” 

Harry stood first, followed by a quickly knackered Ron. “We’ll see you later at the Ministry. We’re going home for a spell and then get back at it. Director Robards will appreciate your help.” 

Fleur turned to the departing men, a cast iron pan in her hand with a crepe cooking. “You’re not going to stay ‘til Dad wakes up?” 

“No, only because we’re knackered and we don’t want to get his hopes up too much before we know for certain Mum’s where we think she is.” Ron shrugged in resignation. “Really, we don’t know enough yet to say for certain.” 

Bill spoke through a bite of his breakfast. “That makes sense. Love, what do you think?” 

“I don’t like keeping Papa in the dark. He has a right to know, even if it’s just basics.” She pierced the two younger men. “I will tell him, after Bill leaves for the Ministry. Charlie, too. They have a right to know.” 

Harry nodded first. “Alright, but no one else. We can’t let too many know what’s going on.” 

“And who else would we tell? We’re family, not some ill-bred louts like you deal with.” 

Ron chortled. “You’re right. You handle telling Dad and Charlie. As soon as we know something, someone will let you know.” 

Hugs and kisses were exchanged before they departed. “Just keep Dad here, and distracted. We’re working as fast as we can to catch this guy.” Ron stopped in the doorway and offered a parting thought: “I won’t stop ‘til I get this guy. I promise you that.” 

“We know, Ron. We know. Now go. We’ll look after the others.” 

* * *

The men stepped into Ron’s flat and were greeted with the smell of fried eggs, bangers, and scones. “Hermione, how long have you been awake?”

She turned and Harry saw the exhaustion on her face. Dark circles encompassed her eyes while her hair was pulled back in a messy bun. He stepped lightly by her while he went to wash his hands at the sink. 

“A while. I slept a little but not nearly enough, not since you weren’t home. So I got up and cooked breakfast.” 

Ron went over and pulled his wife into a hug, talking quietly into her hair. 

Harry plated some eggs and a scone along with a cuppa and found his seat in the living room. “Fantastic breakfast, Hermione. You’ll be like Molly soon enough.” 

“Thanks,” He heard a watery reply from the kitchen. Harry tucked into the scone and groaned in appreciation. Ron joined him with his own second breakfast. “Smart she let you eat first. You’d get crumbs otherwise,” Ron muttered through his mouthful of scone. 

“Yeah, try as I might, I can’t eat like you do.” 

“Ron, leave Harry part of the dinner under the cooling charms. I made it when I got home last night but wasn’t hungry.” Hermione’s voice echoed from the hallway. 

“You cooked this morning too? Blimey, what’s gotten into you?” 

Hermione stepped back into the kitchen to tidy up. “I told you: I couldn’t sleep so I cooked. I reckon we might not have much time ‘til Mum’s home to do anything besides getting takeaway or eating at the Ministry.” 

“But we like takeaway!” they responded in unison. 

“I know you do, both of you. We might be eating that for a while.” Hermione twirled her wand and the kitchen finished cleaning. 

“Heading in?” Harry asked before another bite of eggs. 

“I am. I have a stack of papers on my desk I completely ignored yesterday that need to be filed, at the least. But if you need me today, I’ll help too. Just let me know.” 

Hermione picked up her satchel and her beaded bag. “When are you due back?” 

“We’re supposed to be back at 1 but I doubt we’ll be gone that long.” 

“Rest up, love.” Hermione leaned over to give Ron a kiss and waved to Harry. “Bed’s made in the spare room. Just put my books on the desk.” 

“Will do, Hermione.” 

They watched her depart in a swirl of green flames. “You heard her – the spare room’s waiting on your sorry arse.” 

“Not as sorry as yours, I reckon.” 

* * *

Harry woke with a start. The nightmare he was wrestling with threw him out. Molly’s face was the one thing he remembered and it was enough.

He wiped his face on the crisp bedsheet under his fingertips. Harry ran his fingers through his hair and sat on the bed while trying to catch his breath. 

“You can’t think that, can’t think that way at all. It’ll only do your head in.” 

He had to keep his wits. This wasn’t the first kidnapping they’d dealt with, but it was the most important and the most precious to them. Sure, they’d busted their bollocks chasing down everyone they ever were tasked with finding, but Molly was different. 

When Robards let them stay on the case, Harry was gobsmacked. He expected to be usurped from the case automatically, simply because of their relationship with the victim. But then Robards was right – they didn’t have the manpower to shift the entire department to take them off the case and assign others to the task. No, the department was still short staffed and would be for a few years more, maybe. The war decimated the Auror Corps too much, leaving many in the lurch. They’d come far in the intervening three and a half years, but there was still a ways to go. Maybe with their help and some others, they could rebuild the Corps. 

But for now, the only concern was getting Mum back. 

Harry put on his glasses and glanced at his watch, seeing he’d slept about four and a half hours. If Ron wasn’t in the shower, he’d scrub up, run his errand, and then head back into the office. His additional task shouldn’t take long and it might just pay dividends in the case. 

He opened the door and was greeted with silence. Harry glanced down the hall and saw the bedroom door was still closed. 

He had time for a shower and tea before leaving for the Ministry. 

* * *

Harry was writing up the reports from the previous night when Ron appeared at his desk. “If you’re finished, Robards wants to talk with us.”

“Yeah, sure.” Harry tidied his desk, including his quill in the ink bottle and followed Ron back to the end of the department. 

“’Bout time you two sorry sods showed your faces in here. We’ve got more information.” 

Both kept quiet while awaiting the Director. 

“Smythe stayed on station ‘til he was relieved this morning. He erected anti-apparition wards over the entire area, and muggle repelling charms to keep away potential prying eyes.” Director Robards wove his wand and a large map of the area appeared behind his head. The section in question was glowing in a faint shade of red. “Bill Weasley is out at the site, along with two members of MLS guarding him, trying to break the wards the sod erected.” 

Robards cancelled the charm and the map rolled up again. “Now, which one of your sorry arses requested assistance from Narcissa Malfoy?” 

Ron stood there befuddled. Harry stood taller, acknowledging his decision. “I asked for her assistance since she is the only living relative of the wizard in question, even if it is by marriage. I thought she might be the only person who could have access to the wars and pass them. That was the idea I had.” 

“You’re out of line, Potter.” 

“The fuck did you do?” Ron looked at him like he’d gone around the twist. 

“Shut it, Weasley.” Director Robards turned to Harry. “But he’s right: What did you promise her to get her to assist us?” 

Harry refused to look at Ron but at the Director. “I promised her that I’d forgive Draco’s blood debt to me, for saving his life the night of the Battle, if she helped us.” 

“You promised her nothing else, nothing at all?” 

“No, sir. I don’t have that kind of authority.” 

“You’re a bloody fuckwit, you know that.” 

“Yes, sir. But I realized that since Andromeda Tonks wasn’t welcome at that residence, she might be the only help we could seek.” 

“Did she agree? Is she helping Weasley?” 

“She’s there. I called on her this morning, before returning to the office. I left her in the company of the other bailiffs before coming in here.” 

“And when the hell were you going to bother telling me about all this?” Robards scowled at his Aurors. 

“When Ron got in and I had the reports written up.” 

“Well?” 

“It’s on my desk, almost finished.” 

“Consider it finished.” 

Harry departed while Ron stayed in the office. “What can we do now, sir? Anything we can do to help Bill at the location?” 

“Right now, ‘til we hear from the sod, we wait, unless he gets those wards breached. Otherwise, there’s nothing we can do.” 

“Waiting doesn’t do shite, sir.” 

“Waiting is all we can do, Weasley. Like it or not, as much as I know you want to go in like a Dragon with a sore tooth, we have to do this by the book. You don’t realize it, but the situation is more dangerous than you comprehend. So, until we know for certain, we wait.” 

“That’s bollocks, sir.” 

“I know, but it’s how we’re doing it. Otherwise, we risk everyone’s life, including your Mum. I refuse to do that.” 

“Mum’s life?” 

“I’ve got that report, sir.” Harry barged in. 

“What about Mum’s life?” Ron angrily asked over his best mate. 

Director Robards took the two feet of parchment and looked at Ron. “Until I know for certain that she’s held at that property, we’re not going in. Furthermore, I won’t talk about it, not yet. Suffice to say, the situation is tenuous, for her and us. So, we do this by the book, until it’s time to throw the damn book away. Understand?”

“Not really, but I hear you. We wait.”


	7. In sickness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Aurors get more bad news and it goes sideways from there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Rated T** still for adult situations, harsh language, and Ron’s filthy mouth. Sadly, no smut still.
> 
> Finally, a disclaimer: I’m not Jo (nor do I have her stylist or her cheeky wit!) and she only lets me play in her Hagrid styled gazebo once every second blue moon. – _DG_

* * *

“Ron.”

Ron continued to read, ignoring his name being spoken. Each of the details Smythe included in his report was useful yet frustrating. There was absolutely nothing included that would help them breach the wards and get inside to see if Mum was there. Director Robards might tell them that they might be stuck on their thumbs but he was going to think of some way where they could extract his Mum from the bastard who kidnapped her. 

They needed to know what the property inside the wards looked like. Was the place like the Burrow, small rooms and plenty of tight spaces where fighting wand to wand would be treacherous? Was it like the Malfoy residence, where there was so much room you could get lost? Or even something like Hogwarts, with plenty of hidden rooms and secret passageways? 

“Ron, stop it. You’re annoying the hell outta me.” 

“I’m not doing anything, Harry.” 

“You are and it’s annoying me. You’re breathing too loud, sighing every twenty seconds, and twirling your quill. It’s bothering me.” 

Ron put his quill down and leaned far over the desk. “I hate sitting on my arse while Mum is still out there. I don’t know if she’s sick, or injured, or hurt.” Ron blew out a deep breath and ran his hands through his hair. “I could be there, doing something, instead of sitting on my bum, doing bloody paperwork.” 

“Look, we need to stay caught up on paperwork. Since we’re not needed for standing watch, we have to get this done.” Harry looked around the department before leaning in. “Do you want to have to do paperwork for a month after we rescue Mum, or do you want to take time off and spend it with her, and Hermione? Quit trying to do other people’s jobs, like the guys in MLS. Let them do the locale interviews with kneazle women who serve badly brewed tea. Besides, how many people in that area would be surprised if they knew that a mass murdered was living right across the motorway?” 

“I hate it when you’re right. Been hanging around Hermione too much, I reckon.” 

Harry smirked. “No more than you have and probably less now that you married her.” 

Ron smirked for a second before his face turned sour. 

“Look, I don’t want to pry, but are you ok? I heard you and Hermione talking, but I –“

Ron nodded. “Yeah, I am. Hermione and I row sometimes. She sets her mind on how things should be done and gets barmy when shite goes sideways or people do things differently. She gets frustrated and we row about it.” Ron shrugged at the realization. “Then again, rowing with her helps me too, when I’m at a loss and she gets me sorted. But what works for us doesn’t necessarily work for everyone else.” 

“And here I thought marriage would reduce the rowing to nothing more than petty bickering.” 

Ron snorted in response. “Did you honestly think marriage would change her that much? Pshaw. She might be my wife but she’s practically your sister. If anything, she pushes harder and longer because she knows I’m there for her.” Ron smiled softly. “And I know she’s there for me too, even when we’re rowing.” Ron looked across his desk. “That’s the benefit of marriage. We can fight like kneazles and still be good once we’re done.” 

“Yeah, and wearing out the bed doesn’t hurt either, does it?” Harry cheeked. 

“Sod off, Harry.” Ron grinned at him. 

“You lived with me, remember?” 

“Yeah, and we needed it then, didn’t we? That first summer was a mess.” 

The doors to the department opened. Narcissa Malfoy strode in, followed by Bill Weasley, two members of MLS, and Hermione. 

“Fuck, this isn’t good.” Harry and Ron jumped up from their desk and followed the group as they traversed through the department to the Director’s office. 

“Come in,” He growled. 

The director saw the gathering enter his office and patiently stand aside until the room was sealed and silenced. He held his hand out to Mrs. Malfoy where she took it with grace. “Mrs. Malfoy, an unexpected pleasure. If you have come to the department this afternoon, it cannot be good.” 

“Director Robards, thank you for sending Auror Potter with your request.” She looked at Harry and watched him nod slightly. “When he called upon me this morning with a need for my services, one that only I could uniquely fulfill, I was more than willing to assist.” Narcissa adjusted her skirt demurely. “With Mr. Weasley’s timely assistance, my efforts were for naught. He was unable to breach the wards on the property in question.” 

“I thought you knew what you were doing, Weasley!” 

Bill’s face contorted, stretching the remnant scars on his face. “I do, Director. I’m the best cursebreaker Gringott’s has in the world. But my evidence is that the bloke in question mucked up casting the Fidelus charm on his property. With a blood relative, namely Mrs. Malfoy, she should have been able to walk right through those wards. That’s how the Fidelus Charm works. Even if he used a secret family spell, since she was related by marriage, via bonding, she should have had access to his residence in question. That’s how blood magic works. Instead?” Bill wrung his hands. “It’s a wonder that she didn’t perish in the honeypot trap he set.” 

A myriad of voices broke out, each talking over one another. All of them patently ignored the witch sitting in front of the director, waiting patiently for the cacophony to settle before speaking again. 

“What Mr. Weasley is trying to tell you is that the house is protected by corrupted blood magic. If I have to guess, it requires anyone who wants to pass the wards to have, shall we say, a particular dark mark on their skin, possibly on their arm.” Narcissa pushed up the cuff on her arm and showed pale, unblemished skin. “But then you already knew I never took the mark, Director.” 

She deftly pulled the jacket sleeve down her arm. “I’m afraid that the only ones who could safely pass the property are dead. I do recall reading of their demise, correct?” 

“Are you saying there’s a further subset of magic, all predicated on restricted magic, to make it worse? I know about blood magic, but this is – “

“Yes, Miss Granger,” she drawled quietly. “Not all magic is shared with all Wizarding kind. Some is kept separate, untainted, pure, if you will, and only shared in families and handed down from parent to child. Some magic is kept in families deemed worthy of the knowledge, to protect those who would do harm out of spite or ignorance. There are also some schools of learning where they bind their knowledge to their pupils, so that information cannot be shared with others who are, shall we say, less than privileged. I’m well aware of the curriculum at Hogwarts, and what they teach, but not all magic is known, or shared willingly.” Mrs. Malfoy turned back to the director sitting in front of her. “But that is what makes Mr. Weasley very good at his job. He realizes that he doesn’t understand all magic, and that he also knows that not all magic is shared with everyone. He realizes, correctly, that some magic, the virulent and nefarious, is kept as a weapon, for protection, rather than for altruism. He’s had experience, obviously, that not all magic is meant to be breached, broken, and sullied, by those who aren’t worthy of association.” 

“Mrs. Malfoy, you’re telling me that he’s behind blood wards, and they are attuned to only those with a sodding – Sorry Mrs. Malfoy – a dark mark too?” The Director’s face turned hard. “No wonder why you couldn’t do it, Weasley. Corrupted dark magic has killed people for centuries.” 

“It would make sense since the person you are looking for is part of the Sacred 28 and would be paranoid with being set upon, interfered with, or trespassed in a Muggle setting.” Mrs. Malfoy looked Ron over once before turning her attention back to the Director. “It wouldn’t surprise me in the least he used these methods to keep Muggles and most of magical society at arm’s length. Not all Purebloods are as accommodating or welcoming of those who in present company.” 

Bill stepped forward. “I tried everything legal, and a few that aren’t, to break those wards. Nothing worked, sir. In my educated opinion, they are corrupted, and the only way to break them is if we had his blood, to use as the sacrifice demanded of entry.” 

“If Mr. Weasley was able to obtain the owner’s blood, Director Robards, I’m sure that one particular spell would be able to completely counter the curse. There was a book published about two hundred years ago, _Sacred Spells of Home_ , which would have that counter-curse in it. I don’t know, however, if there are any additional copies left.” 

“I’m unfamiliar with that particular publication,” Director Robards replied. 

“I am. I studied it my first year out of Hogwarts. It’s extensive,” Bill added. “But that copy stays in the Gringott’s research vault. It’s unobtainable for us.” 

“The spell I’m referring to is in that book. I heard it once mentioned by my grandfather but I don’t recall which specific one. From what I remember, it works similar to a _Fidelus_ charm, but it also required more blood on the part of the one making it to work correctly.” Narcissa pondered for a moment. “If he used blood from his dark mark arm, where the spell was placed by The Dark Lord, it would be contaminated with the darker magic from the mark. I think that if anyone attempted to break into it or break through the wards they would be… painfully fatal.” 

“You mean old Pureblood magic, if I am correct?” 

“I’m afraid so. It’s unfortunate that Purebloods are rather paranoid about possible breaches of their property so they resort to heinous dark magic to keep people out who have no business being there. Fidelus works well enough, if you have additional magic working with it. This particular spell, if it’s the one I’m thinking of, works independently with nothing else accompanying it.” 

“So, if I get what you’re saying, then if anyone attempted to breach the wards, going in or coming out, would meet with a rather nasty demise?” 

“I’m afraid so. My grandfather mentioned a story one, of a cousin who had been disowned by their parents. This wizard was involved in the nasty business of smuggling untaxed French wine into Wales. They were certainly dodgy, whatever business they ran afoul of the Aurors. Anyway, they were caught and it brought shame on the family, associating with the Muggles.” She glanced around the room to make sure most were keep quiet on her comments. “Once they were released from custody, after a short stint in Azkaban, they apparated from London to their family home in Cornwall. As the story goes, they walked up to the property and straight into the freshly erected wards. They were incinerated instantly in magical fire. 

“There wasn’t enough ash remaining to scatter to the winds. But then my Grandfather said it was a befitting end to someone who wasn’t worthy of the Black name.” 

Narcissa Malfoy stood up from her chair and put her hand out. Director Robards took it between his and smiled. “Thank you for your time today. I’m appreciative that you were able to assist us even if it was unsuccessful.” 

“It’s my pleasure, sir. But if I do come across anything in our library, I will be more than happy to have it owled to the Ministry. Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley and Weasley, good day.” 

The men present watched her leave. 

“Now if that isn’t one cold woman, I’ll eat my shoe,” Auror Smythe grumbled. 

“She still should have done a stint in Azkaban, her and that asshole of a husband.” Ron growled out. 

“No, they turned Mugwump’s evidence and put the bulk of the remaining Death Eaters in Azkaban. Say what you will, but she’s not a witch to be trifled with.” Auror Williamson retorted. 

“She lied to Voldemort, right to his face. You think anyone can cross her and live to tell about it? I know she’s more pragmatic than either of family.” Harry added. 

Director Robards looked at the gathering. “But this doesn’t fix our situation, now does it? It’s corrupted magic and can’t breach it, not without fatalities. So how the hell are we going to get inside those wards without anyone dying?” 

“Sir,” Hermione asked from the back of the office, “Does the ministry have a copy of that particular book in their library?” 

“I would presume so, under Wizengamot authority, if I’m not mistaken.” 

“Do you want me to procure this book, and research the particular spells she’s referring to? Maybe I can assist Bill with his problem.” 

“Go ahead, even if we are stumped right now on how to break into the bastard’s property.” 

“Thank you, sir. I’ll start forthwith.” 

Hermione departed, leaving the rest of the men standing with the director. “Bill, lock that door now that the women have left.” 

“Sir?” 

“Just do it, son.” 

Bill pointed his wand and sealed the Door once more. “We’re sealed.” 

“Is there a way to break through contaminated blood magic? Is there anything you’ve not tried, even if it’s illegal?” 

“No sir. You learn the first week at Gringott’s that contaminated blood wards need the same contaminated blood to break them. That’s why the temples at Tenochtitlan are still sealed: the original warding wizards are long dead. So there’s no spell that will do that. Hermione’s chasing a feral firecrab. Even if she found the book and the spell in question, we’re stuck at an impasse. To break the wards, you need the same contaminated blood. To get that blood, he has to come out.” 

“And if you have the counter-spell for it?” 

“You still need blood, sir. That’s how you break anything in the _Fidelus_ category of protective magic. Knowledge is all well and good but you need the blood as a binding component.” 

“Well, shite. This cocks up everything.” He looked around the room and saw the five men. “So much for damn procedures. Alright, I want ideas on how we can break into that property. Anything goes.” 

“Sir?” 

“You heard me. Anything goes. But I want this bastard and I want in his place by the end of the weekend.” 

“Right now, sir?” 

“We’ll reconvene in an hour. Weasley, if you can return in a couple of hours, so we can further discuss the ideas that are submitted.” 

“I’ll go speak with my Supervisor and return, sir.” Bill departed first, followed by the rest of the others getting on the task of breaking through the corrupted wards. Aurors Williamson and Smythe took to their seats while Harry and Ron stayed at their supervisor’s desks. 

“Bugger of a task, he’s asking.” Auror Smythe grumbled. 

“How can we remove those wards from the property without alerting the Muggle Authorities and without destroying the property?” 

Harry and Ron looked at one another. “You’re the senior. I thought you’d know better than we would.” 

“This is all cocked up,” Auror Williamson complained. 

“How many Aurors do we have available for a bombardment?” 

“10 isn’t enough, Ron. There’d have to be fifty of them from all directions, all focused on one point. But that much magic on one point would also alert him of our presence. You saw the letter: Any Aurors and he uses his wand on Mum.” 

“I hate this shite.” Jasper piped up. “We need his blood to break those wards, and we can’t get to it because he’s locked behind those wards. This is a bloody Gordian knot!” 

“Shut it, Jasper. Keep working on realistic suggestions, not that other nonsense.” 

“You never read Muggle Greek mythology, did you?” 

“Well, no, and why should I? They had me reading about Goblin revolts and history of English Wizards. Why would Greek muggle mythology interest me? Anyway, bombing the place with magic won’t work ‘cause it’ll get her killed. Yes, we want to capture him, preferably alive, but her life is more important. We can run him down again, if need be.” 

“We can’t bait him out, can we?” Ron asked while racking his brain. “Nothing else ‘cept Dad won’t work, will it?” 

“No, that’s not how blood debts work. He’s already called your dad out and nothing else will suffice in substitution.” 

“Well, shite. I thought I’d offer myself instead.” 

“It won’t work. It’s either your Dad or no one. It’s not been an issue for decades, but that’s how blood debts work. No one else can pay it.” 

“Sod that. I’m not letting Dad step into this mess.” 

“Harry, you’re quiet. Any bright ideas?” 

“Hell, I’m stumped right now. I thought Narcissa would be able to waltz right in and we’d use her to get us information.” 

“Did you actually think she could do anything if she did pass the wards? Her presence would be almost impossible to explain, and then we’d be buggered if he kept her too, as another hostage. Hell, he could have killed Mum if Mrs. Malfoy walked into his house uninvited. It might have gotten her killed, too.” Ron threw his quill down on the desk, messing up the parchment he was writing. “That was a bloody stupid idea, Harry.” 

“It seemed like a good idea at the time. But you have to admit that it helped. We know that no witch and wizard can pass the wards.” 

“And that’s about as useful as being stuck in a room with Fiendfyre.” Ron retorted.

“You’re not helping, Ron.” 

“Yeah? What else can we do to get inside those bloody wards?” Auror Smythe butted in. 

“Merlin if I know. I’d ask Dad but he’d want to sneak off and do something about it and get everything mucked up.” 

“You think they’ll let Bill continue to help?” Auror Williamson added. 

“I dunno. I doubt the goblins will let him continue working for us, not without substantial galleons paid for his services.” 

“What if Hermione does find something in that forsaken book?” 

“That’s about as useful as pulling fire out of her ass. We still need the sod’s blood regardless of having the proper counter-spell.” 

“Well, what if we had a Death Eater who could pass the wards. It’s the one thing we’ve not tried.” 

Ron frowned at Harry. “You threw away our only bargaining chip, you git. Do you honestly think Draco Sodding Malfoy is going to help us, not after his Mum secured his obligation to you? You’re barmy. He’d laugh at us as soon as help us.” 

“You’re right,” Harry sat back in the chair. The others in the department were conversing quietly, trying to brainstorm ideas. “I took a risk and it didn’t work and now we’re buggered. And it’s not like we can compel Lucius Malfoy to assist us.” 

“You have any bright ideas?” Auror Williamson looked at Ron. 

“You think we could get some goblin piss, ‘cause that’s about all we haven’t tried yet.” Harry cheeked. 

Ron gave Harry a quizzical look. “What about, instead of goblin piss, we look to something similar.” 

“Ron, I’ve had four hours of sleep and not enough tea. You’ve lost me.” 

“Yeah, I know. Me too. I’m knackered.” 

“You prat! What idea do you have?” 

“Hermione’s gonna go spare if I offer this idea.” 

“Get to it,” Auror Smythe said. 

“House elves,” Ron said quietly while staring at the closed doors. “Think about it. We were in a warded dungeon, with no wands, and no hope of escape. And yet Dobby popped in just as easy as can be.” 

“What do you have in mind?” 

“You think we can find a way to transform into them?’ 

“I can call in Kreacher and we can ask him. He might know or someone here might. It’s not like the Aurors don’t have their own shite that isn’t taught at school.” 

“I think Hermione will be fine if we’re just asking questions. It can’t hurt and maybe he knows something we don’t. It might be as simple as asking if the place has House elves inside, and he can talk to them.” 

“You think we can get a house elf that’s inside the place to help us? If the bloke has elves, he has ownership and they’d not betray him at all.” Auror Williamson added. 

“And I don’t think they’d take a sock from me, not this time, even if I tried.” 

“Shite, I hate being cornered again.” Ron ran his hand through his hair. “Bollocks.” 

“Any other bright ideas?” Auror Williamson replies. 

“I still want to ask him questions. Maybe he knows something that we don’t, about the property and all.” Harry took a piece of parchment and scribbled a few notes on it. 

“Anything’s better than sitting on our damn thumbs.” 

“Maybe someone else will have a bright idea, something we’ve not considered.” 

* * *

“Everyone, my office, now!” Director Robards spoke through the department. Everyone present did as he asked, and made their way to the director’s suite.

“It’s been two hours. I want all potential ideas on the table regarding breaching those wards. Weasley said he can’t break them, and he’s tried everything he can. Remember, nothing is off the table right now.” 

One auror handed up his length of parchment. “Well, sir, we’d have to secure the island, but then have all available Aurors bomb the wards with magic. Eventually, it’d break down, I reckon. 

“Do you wish to explain to the Muggle Prime Minister why Aurors were firing on his country, and explain to the Minister of Magic about the kidnap victim being dead? This is a rescue first, capture second, so your idea is a last resort only plan.” 

Another auror handed in his parchment. “Do we have any hair or skin samples of the person in question? We could infiltrate the wards if an Auror was polyjuiced.” 

“I’d love to do that but the last place the sod was hiding went up in magical fire. Finding one lone hair or skin flake would be harder than finding a Mermaid in the ocean. That’s otherwise a terrific idea, but currently up in smoke.” 

A third handed in his idea. “Can we have a Dragon torch the wards?” 

“Do you want to explain to the Obliviators why they have to work a month to erase the existence of a Dragon from a population of half a million Muggles? No, I have to keep that idea out of our possibilities.” 

Ron raised his hand while holding onto his crumpled parchment. “You said it was protected by corrupted blood magic, right, and that the cursebreaker said they couldn’t be breached without the warding wizard’s blood.” 

“That’s right Weasley.” 

“And Mrs. Malfoy said that if it’s old Pureblood magic that she mentioned, any wizard who tried to breach the wards would be incinerated, right?” 

“Get to the point, Weasley.” 

“Would that magical limitation hinder a house elf?” 

“And where will you get one of those, Weasley? I doubt Minerva will loan you an elf on a suicide mission to test out your theory.” 

Ron watched Hermione’s expression change immediately, turning from pale to bright red to maroon, stopping for a moment in Aubergine, and finishing at green. The book in her hands dropped with a climatic thud at her feet. “Absolutely not, sir. It’s illegal, according the Magical Being Act of 2001, to force a sentient being with no control over their actions on a potentially fatal situation. Absolutely not.” 

“I have a free elf in my employment, so we can ask him.” Harry spoke up before Hermione silenced him with a deadly glare. 

“You do, Auror Potter?” 

Harry saw Hermione sputtering on the other side of the Director’s office but pointedly ignored her. “Yes, sir. I inherited him, but freed him from constrained service in July ’98. He’s still in my employ as a free elf, and could refuse if asked.” 

“Harry, no. Absolutely not. You can’t.” 

“Clear the room. Now. Potter, Weasley, Granger – you stay.” 

Hermione stood on the other side of the room with her arms crossed and the book dangling from one hand. Ron and Harry stood on the other side, trying to keep from withering under Hermione’s furious glare. 

“Speak up, Granger. Tell us why his idea isn’t the best one that’s been presented under the circumstances.” 

“You’re asking a sentient being who cannot make an independent decision, without his owner and master’s approval, to undertake a task that is potentially fatal.” 

“Hermione, you were there when we presented his livery for his employment. Kreacher’s a free elf, sir.” 

“They’re house elves, in service to wizards. That’s what they are there for.” Director Robards countered her argument, ignoring Harry completely. “And if Potter has an elf that can get inside the property, that’s the start of a working plan.” 

“You’re wrong. All lives are sacred, whether you think they are disposable or not. House Elves have just as much right to make their own decisions about their lives as Wizards and Witches do.” Hermione spun on her heel and stared death at Ron. “And I can’t believe you would actually have the bollocks to make this suggestion.” 

“Damn it, Hermione, this is Mum we’re talking about. I never intended to ask him to do my damn job. That’s what we’re not asking. You’re just bent because his name came up.” 

“Hermione, I only made the suggestion so that we ask him if Polyjuice would work on transforming into an elf.” 

“I can’t believe you’re still that ignorant, Harry. Polyjuice transformations are for Humans only. Humans, Harry, not elves. You saw how long I was in the hospital ward when I accidently changed into a cat.” 

Ron was turning visibly angry. “Well, then, what’s your bright idea for getting through that sodding ward, huh? What brilliant idea do you have to bypass dark magic to get inside and find Mum, without killing us or her?” 

“I don’t know yet,” Hermione yelled across the room, “but I have this damn book he sent me after and that’s why I’m looking for a solution, just like he requested!” Hermione thrust her hand at the Director. “I know there’s a solution that won’t risk anyone’s life on this case!” She wiped her face with the back of her hand while continuing to glare at everyone. “But then I don’t know why I am bothering with that when I see the Director has chosen a course of action.” 

“Bill said it’s impossible unless you have his blood. How do you suppose we get it when he’s locked inside?” 

Hermione ignored her best friend and husband, focusing only on the director. “If you’re choosing this method for a rescue attempt, I will file a writ with the Wizengamot over cruelty charges, for using a lesser sentient being against their will on this case. I will fight you on this, tooth and nail, to keep the elves from being manipulated once again by wizards for their own ends, no matter how noble the situation is.” 

“You do that, Granger. You do that but I will have a witch’s life over an Elf every single day.” 

Hermione opened the door and slammed it behind her. 

“Shite,” Ron muttered darkly. “I just mention an elf and she goes barmy.” 

“No, it’s the best idea we have so far, Weasley. It’s quiet, not over the top that would alert our kidnapper, and it is subtle. Potter, contact your elf and ask him to come in. We have questions we need to ask him before sending him on this mission.” 

“Yes, sir. But as his employer, he has the right of refusal.” 

“He does but I don’t think he’ll balk when he knows what is going on. Now get on it.” 

Ron opened the door and hustled out to where Hermione was packing her few things. “Hermione,” he begged. 

“Don’t _Hermione_ me, Ron. You know how important my advocacy work is and I can’t believe you’d suggest using an elf for an Auror mission. I can’t believe you’d stoop so low to ask him to perform your duties.” 

“I wasn’t asking him to do my sodding job!” 

“Bullshite, Ron. You brought him up and the Director is taking it one step further. That one step is the one you’d eventually come to: using Kreacher to help you, knowing full well that he could be killed, doing an Auror’s job. That’s cruel and I won’t stand aside while you do this, not without my complaints lodged for it.” 

Hermione snatched up her beaded bag and her book and started walking towards the doors. “By the end of the day, I’ll have a complaint filed, against the department and the Director, for this. House elves are not meant to die in your place, Ron.” 

“Hermione,” he yelled again. 

“No, Ron. Find another way. I refuse to be a party to inhumane actions towards those who I swore to protect.” She wiped her face again, smearing her eyeshadow even worse. “I’ve fought for years to get these laws in place, to protect non-wizards, and the first complicated case, you want to break those laws I fought to enact. I won’t be complicit.” 

Hermione stormed out of the doors and left echoes of heel clicks on the outside hallway. Ron stood watching her walk away until the doors closed between them. 

“Ron?” 

“I am completely sick of all this cocked up shite.” 

“I know. We’ll talk with Hermione later.” 

“It’s not Hermione, Harry. It’s this asshole who took Mum. When I get my hands on him, I will kill him, even if it’s with my bare hands.” 

Harry stepped in front of Ron and gave him a harsh look. “No, you won’t. You’re going to be busy saving your marriage and keeping your parents intact.” 

Ron blew out a huge breath, almost like he’s been holding it for days on end. “You’re right. I’m sick of the dragon shite going on. Hermione’s angry even if it’s a bright idea. It is a good idea, right?” 

“I reckon it’s the only idea that has a chance of rescuing Mum.” 

Ron wiped his face and ran his hands across his neck. “Have you called Kreacher yet?” 

“I was waiting ‘til you got done dealing with Hermione before I called him.” 

“Doesn’t she know this case is cocked up? This is nothing like what we’ve gone through. But bugger that she’s in a strop over this case.” 

“Maybe it’s a point of pride now. She got the law passed, and we celebrated when it passed, but now it’s biting us on the ass. But no one considered that we’d be constrained like this when it passed. I don’t think she anticipated that the law would be used against us, not when we’re part of the Ministry.” 

“Do you think she’ll still help us on the case?” 

“I dunno. She might, or she might not. You know she gets sensitive about elves.” 

“Well, fuck.” 

“Yeah, my same point.” 

“In for a knut,” Harry looked at Ron. 

“In for a sickle.” 

“Kreacher,” Harry spoke loudly. 

A loud crack greeted him in reply. “Master Harry called Kreacher, sir?” 

“I did. Master Ron and I need to ask you some questions.” 

“Is Kreacher performed in error, sir? Is Master Harry unhappy with Kreacher?” 

“Your work is excellent.” 

“I can’t complain either,” Ron interjected. 

“I called because I need to ask you some questions because you might be able to help us. You might have information that can help our case.” 

“Kreacher serves Master Harry.” 

“Kreacher, you’ve been a free elf for years. You work where you want. You know that.” 

“Yes, sir but Kreacher likes working for you and Mistress Ginny. Master Ron is most kind, too.” 

“Are you busy right now?” Ron added. 

“Busy, sir? No, Master Ron. Kreacher has duties at Hogwarts when he’s not serving the House of Potter, but hardly busy.” 

Harry and Ron sat down at the closest desk and motioned for Kreacher to take a seat on the edge of the desk. He did with alacrity and they waited until he was comfortable. “Kreacher is needed?” 

“We hope so. But first things first: Mistress Molly has been kidnapped. We know the bloke that kidnapped her but he’s hiding in a residence protected by corrupted blood wards.” 

Ron leaned into the conversation. “The bloke in question is related via marriage to the Malfoys. Would this pose a problem for you, if you were to help us?” 

“No sir. Master Harry earned Kreacher’s respect and Master Ron is Master Harry’s friend. Both treat Kreacher kindly and are very generous with him. Kreacher has no complaints and therefore will not work for anyone else, save Madame McGonagall. She treats Kreacher well, too.” 

Harry took a deep breath. “Our problem is that the residence where the wizard resides has tainted magical wards. We’ve been informed, by a cursebreaker, that wizards can’t get past them. Madame Malfoy said that if the wards were made with one particular spell, anyone who tries to breach them will be killed.” 

“That’s most unfortunate, Master Harry. Kreacher has heard from other elves that some families will protect their own with magic that hurts others. Madame Malfoy did that as well.” Kreacher’s ears vibrated. “Kreacher remembers her treatment. Mistress Malfoy used Kreacher for her own means.” 

“Well, this isn’t about Mrs. Malfoy. She’s the one who told us about a particular spell.” 

“Kreacher is surprised. Madame Malfoy normally hesitates to share information unless it’s with family.” 

“I gave her some incentive, and she helped us for her own reasons. But what we need to know is somewhat simple: can wizards Polyjuice into an Elf?” 

Kreacher wrung his hands in consternation. “Kreacher does not know, sir. Kreacher has never been asked that question before. Kreacher wants to answer but knows Master Harry appreciates candor above all else.” 

Harry adjusted the glasses on his nose. “I do, and that is why we have a problem. Mistress Hermione has mentioned,” 

“Repeatedly,” Ron added. 

“ – repeatedly informed us that wizards and witches cannot use Polyjuice to transform into an elf.” 

“Kreacher isn’t certain, sir. Kreacher has never seen this magic.” 

“Well, unless Robards knows something we don’t, that idea is out.” Harry leaned back in his chair in resignation.

Ron stood up and paced around the desk. “Shite! So much for my bright idea.”


	8. 'Til the end of my Days

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Complications arise from Ron's plan to infiltrate the possible residence and are further complicated by another family member's arrival

* * *

“Merlin, I come up with an idea, and the whole thing is nothing but bollocks! I bet Hermione’ll be chuffed at this!” 

“Yeah, it’s not like we’d expect an elf in to do our jobs.” Harry looked at Kreacher and grimaced. “Thanks for your help but it looks like we’re back at square one.” 

“Shite. What are we going to do now?” 

“Does Master Harry need Kreacher’s help?” 

The men regarded the diminutive elf. “It’s too dangerous.” Harry looked at the wizened elf with appreciation. “I won’t ask you to do our jobs, just like you get beastly when we interfere in yours.” 

“Yeah. We don’t want anything to happen to you.” Ron reached over and patted Kreacher on the back. “I like you too much to let you get hurt. And besides, Hermione’d have our tadgers for trinkets if you got hurt helping us.” 

“Master Ron is funny.” Kreacher turned back to Harry. “Is Kreacher needed to check on Madame Molly?” 

Both of them looked at the diminutive elf. “Hell no, you’d be hurt.” Ron spoke first. 

Harry interjected, “I won’t ask that of you.” 

Kreacher laughed, a cackle that made Ron and Harry wince at the shrill noise. “Kreacher finds Masters Harry and Ron funny. Silly wizards presume blood magic can keep Kreacher out of a residence.” 

“But Mrs. Malfoy, she said – “

“Madame Malfoy doesn’t consider house elves as alive, only as servants. Kreacher has walked into Master Ron’s bath while he is with Mistress Hermione. Kreacher kept silent when he saw Master Ron on his knees. Kreacher has seen Master Harry with Mistress Ginny at five am and worked silently and with discretion. Kreacher might be a free elf, but he also is an Elf, not a Wizard, and has magic Master Harry does not.” 

The men looked at one another, hearing their private activities exposed. Ron rolled his eyes while Harry tried to smother the blush on his cheeks. 

Harry shook his head. “I can’t ask you to do this, even if we need to see inside those wards.” 

“What if Kreacher went in place of Master Harry?” 

“No, I forbid it.” 

All three turned to see Hermione standing in the doorway to the Department, with parchment in her hands. “Kreacher, this is a legal writ forbidding you from assisting the Auror department on this particular mission.” 

Kreacher hissed at her. “Your laws don’t affect Kreacher. Master Harry freed me. You and Master Ron gave Kreacher the livery he wears.” He stood up a touch taller, laying back his oversized ears. He touched the collar and the loosely knotted tie around his neck. “Kreacher can choose what he does and does not. Kreacher chooses to help Masters Harry and Ron.” 

Hermione sat down in front of Kreacher, shoving Ron and Harry out of the way. “The wards are corrupted. You could die.” 

“Master Black threatened to take my head daily. He said if Kreacher didn’t serve the house of Black adequately, he’d mount it on the wall. What is death to me? Kreacher doesn’t fear death, not anymore.” 

Hermione huffed in consternation. “I’m still filing a protest, against the department, for using civilians for Auror Missions that is patently illegal, potentially harmful, and against established procedures.” 

“Hermione, I never suggested using Kreacher.” Harry watched Ron change his stance and immediately recognized it: his rowing stance, the one he only took with Hermione. 

She looked at Ron with a frown on her face. “Yes, you did. I heard you in there.” 

“No, you interrupted me.” His voice grew even louder. “I was going to ask – “

She waved him off, ignoring his statement. “You brought up sentient beings for an Auror Mission, which is patently illegal according to the Wizengamot. I wasn’t going to listen further when you mentioned House elves.” 

“Damn it, Hermione. I wasn’t going to use a sodding House Elf on a bloody mission.” Ron’s roar silenced everyone on the squad bay. “I was asking if we could use House elf hair to use in Polyjuice!” 

“Ron, stop it – “Harry tried to get him to calm down. “Not here!” 

“Weasley, is that you yelling?” Ron turned to the director who had stuck his head out of his office. 

“Yes, sir. I’m explaining to Hermione that I wasn’t going to hurt a sodding house elf for the mission, sir!” 

“Shut your gob and carry on!” Robards slammed the door to his office. 

Ron turned to Hermione. She was standing in front of him, writ crumpled in her hands, arms crossed, and her hip thrust out. “It’s still patently illegal.” She nodded her head once, demonstrating her rationale logic. 

“Mistress Hermione,” Kreacher spoke up. “Master Harry cannot command Kreacher, no more than you can.” 

“But,” she turned back to Kreacher and attempted to interject. 

“No, Mistress Hermione. Mistress Hermione is mad because Kreacher cannot be ordered to not help Madame Molly. Kreacher makes choices Mistress Hermione doesn’t like. Madame Molly is kind to Kreacher.” 

“Kreacher,” she begged further, “He will mount your head on a wall. No, I won’t allow it.” 

“You cannot command me. Kreacher chooses to help.” 

“You can choose to help but I can limit the department from undertaking this task.” Hermione took a deep breath before trying further. “It shouldn’t be you. I’ll can find a way to send an Auror.” 

“Hermione, you said it yourself that Polyjuice is only for human transformations,” Ron bit out, trying to stifle his anger. “You’ve been telling us that for years.” 

“Kreacher isn’t human, Mistress Hermione. Wizards can’t turn into elves.” 

Harry sat back down on the other side of the group. “Let’s say we could transform into an elf. What would we have to know to do?” 

“Know, sir? Kreacher don’t understand.” 

Harry smiled. “My idea is to get inside the wards and see what’s happening inside the residence. That’s why I want to change into an elf.” 

“Master Harry is a wizard. Changing your body to look like an elf doesn’t change the magic you can perform. You’re not an elf so you don’t know elf magic. Looking like an elf doesn’t mean you can do elf magic.” Kreacher wrung his hands again. “Wizard magic as an elf might kill you.” 

“Hermione, we’re stuck.” Ron put his head in his hands. “Either we break the law or we let Mum die.” 

“I need more time. I can break this magic.” She implored both of them. “I know I can.” 

“We don’t have a year, Hermione. We’ve got a day and a half. He’s going to get impatient when we don’t reply back in short order.” 

“Ron, you have to give me time.” 

“We’re out of it!” Ron yelled. “You read the note. We’re down to the last 40 hours. If he doesn’t hear back from us by then, he kills Mum and someone else is next.” Ron scooted closer and Kreacher moved out of the way. “I can’t have this sodding fuck targeting you, alright? But quit making my job shite because of legalities. I know these laws, which is why I’m trying to do it all by the bloody books you take such value in.” 

“Why can’t he just take Harry inside and let Harry go under his cloak? Why does it have to be Kreacher?” 

“Look, let’s get one thing straight. You don’t know Auror procedures. If Harry goes in, then I go in with him – or his senior. No one works independently. So having two Aurors in the residence is double the risk. Kreacher can walk around, without having to hide, and can go places and do things that we can’t.” Ron saw Kreacher nodding. “Kreacher can walk the entire house and do things openly, without problem. If Harry and I went in, even if we were hidden, it’d still be a huge risk to both of us.” 

“He shouldn’t have to go into the situation to help us. Hasn’t Kreacher proven his worth?” 

“Mistress Hermione, Kreacher chooses to do this.” 

Hermione sat silently for moments while refusing to look at Harry and Ron. Only Kreacher held her interest, looking back at her with his drooping jowls, laid back ears, and a nose that would give Buckbeak a run for his money. 

“Fine then.” She stood up, knocking the chair over while making her way to the doors. “But I’m still filing a letter of protest with the Wizengamot, for the Auror department using civilians in a mission. It’s wrong, it’s illegal and I won’t stand aside and let it happen, not without voicing my disagreement.” Hermione stood in the doorway and crumpled the writ in her hands. “I’m filing this writ too, as a letter of protest with the Wizengamot. Magical compelling of a sentient being to assist in an Auror’s duty is against the Magical Being Welfare Act of 2000. He’s not a bloody Auror and asking him to do your job is wrong and I won’t support it, even if Kreacher says it’s his choice in the matter.” Hermione threw open the doors and stalked out. 

“We didn’t ask him!” Ron yelled at her hasty retreating back. “He volunteered!” 

“She’s mad, I tell you.” Harry watched the door slowly close. “Doesn’t she realize we’re stuck?” 

“No, but how’s that changed in the last ten years?” Ron shook his head before looking at the quiet elf. 

“It hasn’t, I reckon.” Harry turned to the wizened elf still sitting on his desk. “Kreacher, for the record, will a year’s wages be adequate for you?” 

“Kreacher doesn’t work for galleons, sir. Kreacher offered to help because Madame Molly is kind to Kreacher.” 

“So if we ask you, once you’re inside, to go inside the house and check Madame Molly, would you?” 

“Yes, sir,” Kreacher croaked. 

“And we need a layout of the residence.” 

“Of course, sir.” 

“And not get hurt.” Harry smiled softly. “I can’t order you to, but as your employer, you’re not allowed to hurt yourself on this task. Understand? So if he tells you to iron your hands, you will not do so, but wrap them up like you did.” 

“Kreacher can’t help Master Harry if Kreacher punishes himself for actions he’s not authorized to perform.” 

“Excellent,” Ron chirped. “Will this asshole notice an additional house elf?” 

“Wizards rarely acknowledge elves. Only Master Harry treats Kreacher as employee.” Kreacher laughed. It sounded like a frog being stepped on. “Purebloods don’t acknowledge elves. The wizard won’t notice Kreacher.” Kreacher wheezed. “Only Mistress Malfoy knew elves were different. Only Master Ron and Mistress Ginny treat Kreacher like an Elf.” 

Ron picked up the chair and sat down in front of Kreacher for a moment. “You can’t get hurt, at all. If he sees that you’re not his elf, you leave immediately. You might be the only way we can get inside and help Mistress Molly and get her to safety.” 

“Yes, sir. Kreacher understands.” 

“Would you come with us, so we can explain to the Director what we’re planning?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

The three of them walked to Director Robard’s office and Harry knocked on the door. “Enter,” he growled. They were greeted with stacks of parchment on his desk. “Ah, you sods. Please tell me you have a working plan that’s better than these mountains of parchment the other Aurors devised.” 

“Yes, sir, and we think it’s the best.” Harry stood quietly while waiting on the Director to give him liberty. 

“So, spill it.” Robards continued to scan the various parchment scattered all over his elephantine desk. 

“My employee has volunteered to go inside the wards and look around for us.” 

Director Robards dropped the parchment in his hands and pulled a face. “You have an elf as an employee? He works for you, willingly, and not indentured? Madness!” 

“Well, sir, he works at Hogwart’s mostly, and helps at my residence. But since I’m not home much, I wanted him to have other opportunities. He works in the Kitchens, directing the younger elves. I pay his salary and he works for Headmistress McGonagall.” 

“And this free elf of yours is going to help us, willingly?” 

“Master Harry has earned Kreacher’s respect. Kreacher likes working for Master Harry Potter.” 

Gawain sat up high in his chair and looked over the stacks of parchment. “You’re Kreacher?” 

“Yes, sir,” the elf croaked. 

“He offered to help.” Harry added. “I didn’t ask him to do this.” 

Robards ignored Harry’s comment. “You know it’s a suicide mission, right?” 

“Stupid wizard,” Kreacher grumbled. “Elf magic isn’t wizard’s magic. Kreacher comes and goes anywhere.” 

“Weasley, this is a stroke of brilliance.” 

Harry spoke up, “Hermione’s filing a writ of protest to make us stop.” 

“She can naff off, frankly. This is the best idea we’ve had.” 

Ron added, “It’s the right thing to do, even if Hermione says it’s illegal.” 

“I’ll deal with the legalities when it’s the right thing. But this idea has merit.” 

“So we’re giving up on the idea of using any information from the book?” Harry asked. 

“No. We need the counter-spell, even if we need his blood to break the warding. Once Granger’s found that, we can get to work planning the rescue.” 

“What about Mum?” Ron inquired. 

Robards ignored Ron’s question. “Kreacher,” Robards looked over his desk, “as much as I would love to have you kidnap her back, you are, under no circumstances, to bring her out of the residence. We don’t know what magic she has on her and we can’t take a chance of her raising a wand against anyone.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Now that the rescue is slated, I presume Granger’s complaining to Kingsley right now?” 

Ron shrugged his shoulders. “She’s already filed one writ of protest and filing another one shortly.” 

“Figured she’d put elves above Aurors.” 

Ron flushed in frustration. “She’s doing her job, just like we are. Do you want this sod captured, only to be freed at trial because we mucked up? I want this sod on a slab but that’s not legal.” 

“I know the law better than you do, Weasley. But that’s why I’m the director and you’re not – I can deal with meddlesome witches from Regulation and Control while also placating Ministers who mean well. You try balancing politics and getting the job done and see how you do.” 

Ron flushed brightly but kept his mouth shut. 

“Figured you’d have nothing to say ‘bout that.” Director Robards looked at the wizened elf standing between Ron and Harry. “They’re going to have my bollocks for paperweights when this case is over.” Robards stared at the elf for a long moment, trying to decide if his pension was worth a life. 

“Potter, you and Weasley go with the elf to the site. Stay there ‘til he’s inside and then report back to us.” 

“Whereto, sir?” Kreacher whispered in a raspy voice. 

“There’s an apparition point on the east side of Portsmouth, 100 yards north by north-east of a Kwik-Mart. The property in question is about a quarter mile east by south-east, where the Aurors are stationed.” 

Kreacher raised his hands so Ron and Harry could hold on. 

“Kreacher, do nothing to get yourself or Mrs. Weasley hurt. Eyes and ears only, understand?” 

“Yes, sir.” 

The three Disapparated. 

Robards picked up the last parchment in his hands and scanned the information again. The plan to break the wards via overwhelming magic was just too much. 

A guttural grunt from the doorway distracted him from the discarded plan. He looked up from his sip of cold tea and saw the Minister standing in the doorway with Percy Weasley with him and Hermione Granger behind him. “Lovely,” he cheeked, “just what I needed today. Come to have a go too, sir?” 

“Miss Granger has presented this for consideration at the Wizengamot, that you’re using a free elf to do Auror Work?” Kingsley took a seat without asking, leaving Percy and Hermione standing behind him. “I’m keen to hear this, Director.” 

Kingsley winked at the Director but Robards snorted in reply. 

“All of these ideas,” Director Robards motioned to the stacks of parchment on his desk, “all other possibilities I’ve read violate the International Statute of Secrecy. Dragons? This one says it should be like the Gringott’s break-in, where the dragon burrows under the residence and crumples the magic from the ground up. Only problem I see with that is that it kills anyone inside the bloody residence.” He threw down the parchment in disgust. “And this one, Overwhelming Magical displays? Merlin, there’s quarter million people in proximity to the area. What other options do we have, Sir? What other ideas does anyone have to get us into that magical fortress?” He stared at Hermione in particular. 

“Then why did you send me for the bleeding book and research the magic used?” 

“We still need the counter-spell for Weasley. And your option is still on the table if the Elf fails.” 

“You mean if the elf dies helping us.” 

“Yeah, that too.” Robards looked at the men with resignation. “It’s possible that he’ll kark it while he’s in the bloody place.” 

“You don’t care what happens to him, or Molly, do you?” Hermione seethed with indignation. “He’s going to kill her and Kreacher too.” 

“Of course I care. I’d be in a gutter, pissed on too much Firewhiskey if I didn’t give a shite about my job. But I don’t have time to let my feelings interfere with the job I’m doing. My job is to rescue the hostage and capture the fugitive. You‘re losing sight of that. How many more will die if we don’t catch him now? He’s killed a hundred that we know of, not counting the 20 since the fighting ended in May ’98. How many more will perish if he gets away again? How many do you want on your conscience, Granger, if we don’t catch this sod now? How much spilled magical blood is equal to one possible elf life? Give me an honest answer, Granger.” 

“All life is sacred, even an elf you dismiss so wantonly. But the law is settled, especially for Aurors.” 

“Enough, both of you. You remind me of my parents, rowing over dinner.” 

Hermione and Director Robards quit yelling over one another. 

“Potter and Weasley left for Portsmouth and the estate, with the elf, right?” 

“Yes, sir. Their orders are to stay with the elf until he’s inside and then return to file the report. I also specifically asked the elf not to compromise his or Molly Weasley’s safety. As much as you complain, Granger, he is the only way in and I’ll be buggered if we let him get hurt.” Kingsley sat there for a moment and looked at the stacks of parchment. “Were any of the remaining suggestions legal? Was Potter and Weasley’s idea the best course of illegal action? Was everything else patently illegal?” 

“Yes, sir. Everything else, in some way, broke the International Statute of Secrecy. Their idea, as patently illegal as Granger calls it, was the only one to not break the International Statute of Secrecy.” 

“Damn. I hate cocked up cases.” Kingsley shook his head. “Alright, then. Miss Granger, you file your protests and writs with the Wizengamot. I’ll stand by Director Robard’s decision to use a house elf as an infiltrator. Corrupted dark magic that proves fatal to humans would be a suicide mission, at least to us.” 

“But sir, compelling an elf to do our job is loathsome.” 

“It is, Granger, but I’m not sending in Aurors on a bloody suicide mission. I won’t agree to compromise Auror lives, including your husband. Is that clear?” Kingsley froze Hermione on the spot. “Bad cases make bad law and your law is biting you on the arse. There’s sod all we can do about it except break it and pay for it afterwards.” 

“Is that your final solution, sir?” 

“And what do you propose? What is your suggestion?” Robards spoke up. 

“You sent me for this particular book.” Hermione held up the book she procured earlier in the day from the Ministry library. “I’ve not had enough time to research the magic in question, and see if we can break the wards with Bill Weasley’s assistance.” 

“You must have missed where Weasley said we need blood to break the wards. How do you propose we get it, Granger? It’s a stalemate, even if you figure out which spell for Weasley to use on those wards.” 

“So you’re protesting because we went in before you were finished trying to work the other way, without bringing in elves into the situation? That’s why you’re raising a stink over the entire thing?” 

“Elves aren’t Aurors, sir. Would you ask your child to go undercover into a dangerous situation? They are like precocious children, and should not be thrust into dangerous situations where they can be killed.” 

“But Auror Potter’s elf is a free elf. He chose his actions of his own free will.” 

“That doesn’t matter. He’s not an Auror so using him is illegal.” 

Harry and Ron walked back into the Director’s office. “Kreacher’s safely inside the wards. He popped back out to show us that Elf magic is the loophole. He’ll stay there for a day getting us the information we need.” Aurors Williamson and Smythe slid into the room before closing the door. 

“How could you do it, both of you?” Hermione snarled. “After everything I’ve fought for, and you throw it aside at the first hard mission. Why couldn’t you wait until I finished?” 

“There’s no time, Hermione,” Ron yelled at her. “We don’t have a month for you to read it all and do your research!” 

“I didn’t compel him, Hermione,” Harry yelled over Ron’s yelling. “He’s a free elf and made his own choice. He offered to do it because of Molly. He said she was always kind to him. I told him he could refuse and I’d think nothing less of him.” 

“You’re supposed to protect him, Harry, not let him go in like a spy. I can’t believe you let him do it, much less ask him to go in harm’s way.” Hermione scowled at Ron standing beside Harry. “And of course you had no problems letting him do this, instead of protecting Kreacher. He’s not Dobby, damn it!” She wiped her face and looked at all of the Aurors in the room. “Do you really want his head mounted on a spike if he’s caught in there?” She opened the door and stopped, but refused to look at any of them. “If he dies, I’m requesting murder charges be filed. I refuse to condone what you’ve done here.” 

“You don’t know what you’re talking about, Hermione! I told him I didn’t want him doing it!” Harry yelled back. 

“Oh so you’d let Mum languish with the kidnapper because it’s moral? That’s rich, coming from you Hermione.” Ron pointed his finger at the door. “He’s gonna kill her in about 40 hours if we don’t do something. Quit trying to re-write the procedure book in the middle of a fucked up case!” 

“Enough, everyone. Potter, Weasley – file those reports. Smythe and Williamson, start laying out a battleplan. I want something operational in 12 hours, and ready to execute in 12 more, once the elf returns. Granger, go back to your office and do your research. I won’t have you jeopardizing an operation, not when it’s tenuous at best. Regardless, everyone’s off the clock at half four and back in at 12.” 

Kingsley looked at Hermione. “I’ll meet with you and Robards at half ten, to talk about the situation. That’s the best I can offer you.” 

“Yes, sir.” Hermione stared daggers at Ron and Harry and Director Robards too. “I’ll be happy to discuss this with you tomorrow.” Hermione walked out and slammed the door behind her. 

“Kingsley, she’s giving me more grey hairs than my wife does.” 

“If I had hair, she’d give me a few too.” Kingsley shook his head at his personal conundrum. “But she’s right. This entire case is messed up. I hate cases like this.” 

A knock on the door stopped everyone in their tracks. Neville Longbottom stuck his head in. “Begging your pardon, sir, but I have a suggestion, if you don’t mind.” 

“Have at it, Longbottom.” 

“Well, sir,” Neville scrapped his boot into the worn carpeting on the floor. “Remember when we did our test runs on the weaponized polyjuice a few months back? Seems like a perfect time to use it.” Neville looked up and saw Kingsley staring at him. “My apologies, sir. I didn’t see you here. I’ll go and wait.” 

“Longbottom, get in here.” 

Neville stood at attention in the doorway. 

“You mentioned the weaponized Polyjuice we’ve been testing?” 

“Yes, sir. I overheard Harry and Ron talking and figure this might be a great opportunity to use it. I have no clue how to breach the wards but I thought that if someone else found a way, we could use this once we’re inside.” 

Kingsley looked at Gawain who looked at Harry and Ron. “Neville, how much do we have ready?” 

“Ready, sir? The potioneer said we had 8 vials of it. That’s just the first distilled batch. But he also said that he’ll have more in a week, and can hopefully have a department supply ready for us in the next six months.” 

“Eight doses. That sounds like enough for this mission, once we have an actual mission plan drawn up.” Director Robards looked at the watch on his wrist. “It’s half seven now. Weasley, work with Smythe, Smith, and Williamson. Draw up some generic tactical plans for us when the elf returns tomorrow. I want to have a working plan of rescue within 8 hours of his return. I want this hop to start at 4am, depending on when the elf returns. We need the extra hours in case this goes sideways. I don’t want to wait until the last 4 hours and go in and rush it and muck it up. So, once a plan has been drawn up, brief Auror Jones. She’ll lead it but I’ll be on station overseeing this hop.” 

“What about me, sir?” 

Robards smiled and it wasn’t warm. “You’re on point, Potter. Work with Longbottom and the potioneer. He needs to go over with you about this new Polyjuice and what possible side effects there are.” 

“Yes, sir.” Harry turned slightly green. He remembered what Ron said about the side effects. 

“Once he’s briefed you, get with Weasley and the others. Hash out a working plan that we can act on. We’re running out of time here.” 

The Aurors left Kingsley and Percy with the director in his office. 

Harry walked away from the office and found Ron sitting at his desk with his head in his hands. “Problem?” 

“Yeah, Hermione. I’m sick of her blaming me for every sodding problem on this case. It’s not my bloody fault all this is happening.” 

“No, she’s blaming you for us having to make terrible choices because some sod mucked up everything.” 

“What would you have us do, huh? The bastard said 72 hours and if we wait any longer to act, we’re risking Mum’s life. I can’t have that.” Ron rubbed his eyes. “Fuck, it’s only ‘cause of Fleur we survived Fred’s death. It’s only ‘cause of her that the rest of us can focus on digging this bastard out and getting Mum back. We lose Mum and I might as well put Dad into an early grave. George too, probably.” 

“We’ll go check in with the family as soon as possible.” 

“What about Hermione? She’s going to be a banshee either way, no matter what happens.” 

“She’ll just have to be in a strop, Ron. It’s not like we have many choices in the situation.” 

“But she’s blaming me when I was just making a possible suggestion. You’d think I’d hurt Kreacher with my bare hands. I can’t help it that she won’t listen and that Robards ran further with my idea.” 

“I know and she’ll have to get over it eventually. But we can’t bother with her anger, not when it’s mum’s life on the line.” 

“Harry?” 

“Yeah?” 

“You think this would have happened even if we weren’t Aurors?” 

“Yeah, I reckon so. He’d still target Dad and Mum, but we’d be doing something else instead of chasing down the bastard to bring him to justice.” 

“Ron Weasley!” a voice roared from the front of the department. “Where the fuck is Mum and Dad?” 

Ron and Harry looked up and saw George storming into the department with Angelina in tow. “I went home to see Mum and Dad and no one’s there. Where the fuck are they?” 

Harry stood up first, to put himself between George and Ron. “George, settle down.” 

“Don’t get shirty with me, specky git. And You? Charlie’s gone, house is deserted, and nothing’s put away. You tell me right now!” 

“George, sit down.” 

“I will not ‘til you tell me what the hell is going on.” 

Harry interceded while pulling his wand from the holster. 

“Don’t pull your wand on me, Potter.” He still stopped in his tracks. 

“Don’t make me use this on you. Sit down, George.” 

George scowled at Harry and then Ron before doing as requested. 

“We only returned from Pakistan this evening,” Angelina offered. “I was supposed to Portkey out tomorrow morning for South America and meet up with the National Team.” 

The Aurors shared a look before Harry knelt down in front of his brother-in-law. “Mum’s been kidnapped and Charlie has Dad with Bill and Fleur.” 

“You’re full of shite.” He looked at his stoic brother looming over him. Ron barely nodded his head. “Fuck me! You’re not pranking me.” 

“Sorry George, but we’re not. The entire situation is completely cocked up. Ron, Hermione, and even Percy have been helping out trying to get at this bastard. Bill was requested to assist, by breaking the wards at the place we think he’s hiding. He couldn’t break them.” 

“When,” He spoke softly, “when did she get kidnapped?” 

Ron laid a hand on George’s shoulder too. “It happened yesterday morning, outside the butcher shop in Ottery St. Catchpole. Hermione may have found where he’s keeping her, and Bill’s helping as well. We’re using everyone we can to find her.” 

“Where are they, Charlie and Dad? Is Fleur and Victorie safe? Shouldn’t they be helping too? Damn. Mum would know what to do.” George looked up from his hands. “The last time we saw them was at the Burrow, but that’s been a few days.” 

“They’re staying with Bill and Fleur. Kingsley ordered them to leave. Charlie’s staying with Dad to keep him from doing anything rash or hasty. It’s also safer there, more protected, since the sod in question knew about where the Burrow is.” 

“So what’s the plan?” Angelina kept her hands on George to keep him seated in his chair. His mutterings were growing darker and more vicious. Ron hadn’t heard his vile words in years, not since he’d crawled out of a Firewhiskey bottle almost four years ago. “Better yet, is there a plan?” she asked. 

“We’ll know when Kreacher gets back.” 

“Wait,” George stopped moving. “You sent a fucking elf to do your bloody job? Are you mad? You’ve lost your bleeding mind, sending an elf to do Wizard’s work! That’s suicide!” 

“George, listen. The sod who kidnapped Mum cocked up the wards on his place. He took contaminated blood for it and only an elf can get through. Hell, even Bill couldn’t break it, not even with Narcissa Malfoy’s help. We need his blood to break the wards but he’s hiding inside the property.” 

“Bill’s a tosser, you’re a wankstain, and you,” George pointed a finger at Harry, “are mad. Why the hell would Narcissa Malfoy help us with Mum’s kidnapping? That’s completely insane.” George pinched himself, hard. “Nope, not dreaming, but I’d swear I’m pissed.” 

“That’s my business, George, but she did help. Hermione’s in a strop because we didn’t wait for her to finish her research before picking our poison.” 

“What do you mean, didn’t wait for Hermione to finish? Why are you rushing this?” 

“We’ve got about 38 hours before the bastard says he’s gonna kill Mum and come after someone else. Hell, Harry and I have been chasing this sod for going on three years now. Do you want him kidnapping you, or Angelina?” She looked away like she was blushing under her dark features. “You want him kidnapping Victorie, or Fleur?” 

George unleashed a colorful tirade that made Ron roll his eyes. 

“My sentiments exactly. That’s why Harry and I are busting our asses trying to get to Mum and rescue her.” 

George looked up from his hands. The Aurors bit their collective tongues after seeing his changed expression. “What can we do? I’m not just going to sit here on my arse and wait for those 38 hours to trickle out.” 

“Go tell Ginny.” 

“Where is she, at Holyhead?” 

“South America. She could be in Argentina, or maybe Brasil still. Hell, it could even be Paraguay. I honestly don’t know,” Ron grumbled, “but Angelina would.” 

“San Paulo, Brasil. There’s a match Sunday at noon against the Brasilian team. That’s why I was taking a Portkey in the morning.” 

George’s expression turned dark. “Wait a tic. You want me to go to Brasil to tell my sister that her Mum has been kidnapped? How the hell am I supposed to get there? The cost is prohibitive, even for me.” 

“No, George. I want you to take a Portkey to the Ministry in Brasil and go to the hotel where they are staying. Then, I want you to tell her privately that her Mum has been kidnapped and bring her back home. See, no one’s said a thing to her. We’ve been too sodding busy to let her know.” 

Angelina looked like she bit into a lemon. “She’s gonna be madder than one of Charlie’s Dragons.” 

“So? Nothing we can do about it. She’ll just have to get mad, just like Hermione. They can be mad together.” Ron cheeked back. 

“Why isn’t your arse already there, Potter? She’s your wife, so Mum tells me. You go get her.” George’s face was turning crimson. 

“We’re on the case, you git.” 

“So find someone else and you go.” George looked around at the gathering in the department. “There’s enough Aurors to spare you two sods.” 

“We’re in the middle of the bleeding case and there’s no one else who can take our place on this job.” 

“Sod that. It’s the Ministry and they have plenty of people. You tell them that you have to go get your family ‘cause I’m not leaving. She’s your wife,” George pointed at Harry, “– and she’s your sister.” He wrung his hands. “I can’t go, not now.” 

Ron stood over his brother and lifted him out of the chair, making him see eye to eye. “Shut your gob and go get Ginny. Angelina will go with you but Harry and I are too bloody busy trying to get Mum back to do your job.” 

“So send Bill. I need to be here.” George refused to look at his brother, even if he was being held off his feet. 

“And do what, George? You’re not an Auror. You’re not a curse breaker. You’re a shop owner. You’re the perfect one to go get Ginny and bring her home. No one will notice you going away again on business. Now do as I say and go get Ginny.” 

“Fuck you. You go get her, one of you. I’m not going and that’s it.”


	9. If anyone has any objections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ron has a breakdown and has to inform the family of what's going on as well as confronting Hermione over the case.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** Thanks to all the views and kudos. It’s most appreciated. - _DG_

* * *

“We’ve got shite to do so piss off.” Ron held George at arm’s length.

Harry stepped in and made Ron lower his brother to the ground. 

Ron continued his verbal assault. “If you want to sit on your arse and do nothing to help ‘cept whinge and pout alongside Angelina go ahead. But I have a job to do and that’s to get Mum back from the fucking kidnapper.” Ron shoved George away from him and stalked out of the department. 

“Long story short, George,” Harry gave George a nasty look. “Ginny won’t know about Mum ‘til that bug Skeeter prints it in the Daily Prophet, I reckon. If she does before we’ve get Mum back, you ignorant git, Mum’s dead, regardless of the written deadline. So decide what you’re doing but we’re not abandoning Mum.” 

Harry turned and walked after Ron. George hurled epithets at Harry’s departing back and his nastiness didn’t stop until Harry had shoved the heavy oaken doors open and walked out. 

“Where does he get off treating me like a knobheaded criminal? The nerve of him: acting that way, hauling me up like a sack of turnips, yelling at me like I’m Ickle Georgie.” He was shuddering from Ron’s manhandling. “Did you see him treat me like that, both of them? They’ve got no right to be cross with me, their own brother. When I see Ron again, I’m decking him.” 

“Quit acting like a twat, George. Ron’s doing the best he can, him and Harry both, trying to get Mum back, so stop acting like a knobhead.” 

“Assholes.” George stared at the closed doors and muttered under his breath. “You think Dad would know anything more?” 

“Probably, but I don’t think he’s been here since Kingsley sent them home the first day.” 

George turned slowly around the room, seeing the few Aurors present. Paper flew all over the department. Others were busy writing on parchment or sending out various memos. 

“They’re not playing, are they?” 

Angelina shifted her feet, and took note of the change in his demeanor. “No, they aren’t.” 

“But why Mum? Sure, she killed Bellatrix but that fuckin’ bint deserved it. She’s a grandmother, for Merlin’s sake. She’s not hurt anyone else since then.” 

“There’s obviously a reason and we just don’t know about it yet.” Angelina gently tugged George’s elbow. “We know where the family is. Let’s go ask them.” 

“I hope they have better answers than those two gits. I reckon we’re not getting any more information from these sods.” George stood stock still and continued to look at the closed doors. “It’s not like Dad needs me, not when he’s got Bill and Charlie there to help.” 

“Arthur always needs you, and maybe if we’re nice enough, Fleur will make a plate of dinner for us.” Angelina took a few steps towards the exit but George didn’t budge. 

“What if Ron’s right? What if they are so busy they can’t stop and go get her?” George turned to his girlfriend and saw the concern on her face. “Ginny’s going to be a banshee if no one tells her that Mum was kidnapped.” 

“We’ll talk it over tea when we get there. After that, we can decide what to do, if they need additional help.” 

They took a few more steps towards the exit before George stopped and looked at the Director’s office. “Ron’s mad at me, isn’t he? That’s why he’s acting this way.” George took a shuddering breath. “He’s never raised his voice at me, not that I can remember.” 

Angelina smacked him on the back of the head. “Pull your thumb out. He has a difficult job and he’s under a lot of pressure. Throw in that it’s Mum and you have him acting a firecrab with a sore claw.” 

“Yeah, but did you see him lift me like a sack of turnips and hold me? When did he turn into this _man_ and quit being my tosspot of a little brother?” 

“It must have happened at some point. But don’t discount him now. He’s got a job, him and Harry both, and we need to help them.” 

The two of them departed for Shell Cottage and hopefully some answers. 

* * *

Ron shoved the heavy door of the locker room out of his way and went to the first set of wood doors. Rows of wood shelf lockers stood gleaming, polished by years of blood, sweat, and too many angry tears.

“Sodding fuck!” He screamed and punched the antiquated wood with his oversized fist. “Damn it all!” He punched it as hard as he could, splitting his knuckles on his left hand. He punched another locker door, splitting the knuckles wider, spraying blood onto the tile floor. 

Harry slipped into the room and locked the door. He knew better than to get in front of Ron’s wand or fist. He remembered vividly the last time he did – his jaw still ached on the coldest of days. He’d only step in if Ron was going to truly hurt himself – or turn his wand on someone else. But as long as Ron was only battering himself, he wouldn’t intervene. 

Blood dotted the floor, walls, and locker doors, with his imprinted fist scattered all over the room. 

Ron pounded his fists into so many doors, walls, and wood lockers, burning off rage. Moments of silence interrupted the minutes of screaming. Piercing howls of agony added to the malevolent cacophony. 

Ron pulled his wand from his pocket and pointed it at his left hand, tending the cracked knuckles to healed skin. He did the same on his wand hand, shaking the entire time. But then he turned and pointed the wand at the wardrobe dummy at the end of the row. 

“NO! Training room, now,” Harry barked. 

Ron turned and saw the seriousness on Harry’s face. He scowled and stomped through the second set of doors, hidden behind the wardrobe dummy, into the training room. 

Harry followed immediately and watched Ron’s wand start the training dummies. They swirled around the room, moving as fast as thought. His wand was a blur, nailing each flying mannequin and making them explode, spraying floating feathers and dragon skin all over the room. 

And as quick as all were down, they were repaired and flying again, faster and higher. 

All through the silence, Ron wielded his wand, throwing non-verbal spells as fast as his hand would work. Each one exploded, leaving a mess on the floor. 

Harry stood on the wall and watched it all, in near silence, as Ron repeated the tasks again, and again, and yet again. He knew the depths of the rage running through Ron’s veins, how nothing except wanton destruction would quell the feelings of incompetence and inadequacy. Some days, the only way to cope with the virulent darkness they faced in the job was making the stand-ins explode. Each Auror learned the lessons from Robards, who learned from Moody. Robards taught them how to cope, after learning from Moody on how not to. It’s considerably healthier than drinking yourself into a bloody stupo. The Director growled in the final apprentice lesson. 

After the sixth set of explosions, the mess remained on the carpeting, and Ron crumpled to the padded rug. His wand rolled out of his grasp, coming to a halt next to magically repaired dragon skin. 

“Ron?” Harry quietly came over to sit in front of his best mate. “Ready to talk now?” 

Ron shook his head, his shoulders shuddering under the weight of the case. 

“I’ve got your back and I’m on your side, even if no one is acting like it.” 

Ron nodded his head once while letting the shakes work out of his skin. Minutes ticked by, with nothing more than Ron’s hard breathing to keep cadence of the passing moments. 

“Christafuck, Harry, why is everyone having a go at me? I didn’t start this shite but damn, everyone seems to be blaming me for all this cocked up mess.” 

“I’m not, Ron. Neither is Robards. We know how barmy the case is.” 

Ron looked up and his face was a mess. Splotches of red dotted his face, temporarily erasing the freckles there, along with dark shadows under his eyes and bloodshot eyes. His ginger hair, which he wore a touch long for regulations, was sweat stuck to his head, looking like he’d stuck his head in a keg of butterbeer. 

“I’d be around the twist if you were going to have a go at me too.” 

“Nah, that was yesterday, when I was trying to keep you from barging in and getting yourself hurt.” 

“Good thing you did, I reckon. I’d have done myself in, trying to go through those wards.” 

“Ron?” 

“Yeah, Harry?” 

“You know George isn’t mad at you.” 

“Yeah, he is.” 

“No, really.” 

“He can be mad at me, and I can be mad at him. That’s fine. We’ll get sorted later.” 

“What I just saw was more than George being a prat.” 

“You’re right. It’s the shite with Hermione, too.” 

Harry sat on his heels and waited for Ron to speak further. 

“She’s making me choose between what’s legal and what’s right and that’s wrong. Why can’t she see how fucked up things are?” 

“You’ll get her to change her mind.” 

Ron snorted in disgust. “Hermione? Yeah, right. She’s law-biding more than Percy is. She hasn’t broken a rule since she signed the employment contract.” 

Harry avoided disagreeing, since shagging in the Ministry was against the rules but he didn’t think Ron would find it amusing during their discussion. 

“You’re wrong. I can’t explain it but something’s going on with her that I can’t fathom.” 

“Yeah, she’s barmy as hell when it comes to bloody house elves.” 

“No, it’s something else. Maybe she’s worried about you and your job.” 

“Can’t be that. She’s just mad because elf magic is the loophole we’re using.” 

Harry stood up and held a hand out to Ron. “We’ll figure it out, or not. But we need to get on with the planning.” 

Ron let Harry pull him up and he dusted his arse off. “Yeah, talking about shite going sideways.” 

“It always does,” Harry added. “That’s why we train so hard and so often.” 

Ron’s face contorted into a grimace. “I know Robards said you’re going in first, but I want in too.” 

“You have an idea, don’t you?” 

“Yeah. It’s half-ass in my head right now but I think we can work something out.” The men left the training area and walked back towards the conference rooms, discussing Ron’s bright idea. Harry stopped and looked at his best mate. “You’re mental.” 

“Yeah, but hear me out. It’s a brilliant idea.” They stood in the empty hallway, talking further. 

“So, you think Jones will go for it?” 

“Yeah, I think she will. But if Hermione gets word of it, she’s going to go completely spare.” 

“So she won’t know. This is our plan, no one else. We’ll tell the team tonight, and then make a different one for when Hermione’s there.” 

Harry stopped and looked at his best friend, his brother in all but blood. “You don’t know if it’ll work. Let me do it. You get Mum out.” 

“We can’t. I told you why.” 

“Yeah, but this could get you killed.” 

“We’re Aurors, not Quidditch players. Our job is dangerous. We didn’t sign up for trolly stewards on the Hogwarts Express.” 

Harry stood there another long minute. “This is completely barking.” 

“Yeah, it is.” 

“Barmy, I tell you.” 

“Yeah, but you know it’s a plan that’s going sideways no matter what we do. Something always gets cocked up.” 

“Alright, but we do this with lots of back-up.” 

“I think we outgrew going at it alone after Gringott’s.” Ron cheeked back. Harry laughed instead. 

The men went into the conference room and saw the others, already deep in planning. “We’ve got ideas, if anyone’s interested.” 

* * *

“It’s half three. Go home and see the family. Be back here by 12.”

“But sir, we’ve not finished going over the rest of the planning for the raid on the residence.” Jasper spoke up first. 

“And it’ll wait until we get the intelligence from the elf, once he returns. Go home. Sleep. Get a leg over. I don’t care but be back at 12 and be ready. Once the elf returns, we’re racing the clock.” 

“But what about –“ Harry asked. 

“Listen. If we go in now with what we know, we’re walking into a trap. If we attempt to raid the residence now, without his information, we’ll lose the victim as well as Aurors. You,” he pointed at Harry, “got lucky with the fire in Yorkshire but I refuse to take additional risks unless it’s warranted.” 

“But sir, you want us – “

“Y’all go home. See the family. Sleep. I don’t care. If the Elf returns before 1, I’ll wake everyone up.” 

“But Sir, -“

“Damn it Weasley, stop. Go talk with your Dad. Tell the family what’s going on. But get your arse back here by 12. I want us ready to go with the planning and tactics the moment that elf returns.” 

“His name is Kreacher, sir.” Harry shoved his glasses up his face and rubbed his face. 

“I know, Potter, but if I know his name, and something happens, I won’t be able to look at myself in the mirror. I’m already on thin ice for accepting this idea. Bad enough I have to face Granger in the Wizengamot for this.” 

“Do what?” Ron sputtered in indignation. 

“Yeah, didn’t you know?” Director Robards brought out a parchment with a Wizengamot seal on it. “I have to go before a board of Inquiry for this, Weasley, courtesy of Granger. I’m meeting with Granger and the Minister at half ten. Instead of looking over intel reports from MLS, I’m having to defend my decisions to bureaucrats who don’t have asses on the line like I do. It’s not the first time nor will it be the last, but it’s a sight bothersome.” 

Ron popped his knuckles. “I’ll deal with Hermione. I’m sick of her shite, trying to run the whole bloody mission by the sodding instruction manual.” 

“You’ll do no such thing, Weasley. Go talk with the family. Kiss and tickle your wife. Get some sleep. But get your arse back here by 12. We’ve got a ton of details to sort through.” Director Robards looked at the gathering. “That goes for everyone. Once the Elf is back, we’re racing the hourglass.” 

The group in the conference room departed, each making their way out of the department. 

“You head onto the flat and grab some sleep there. I need to go talk with Dad first.” 

“But I’ve got a bed at home.” 

“True, but last time I checked, Ginny wasn’t home and neither is Kreacher. You can stay with us, as long as you’re smart enough to seal the door. If Hermione’s awake, tell her I’ll be home before she leaves for work.” 

“Merlin, you’re not planning on rowing with her when you get home, are you? I don’t need a bleeding headache later today.” 

“It’s not like I plan these things. I’m just going to tell Hermione to keep her swottiness out of Auror business. That’s all.” 

“Are you trying to piss off your wife before 7am?” 

“No, but I’m sick of her trying to run this mission when the plan has gone to hell repeatedly.” 

“Alight. I’ll get in the room and seal it before you start rowing. Merlin knows I don’t need to hear either one of you again.” 

They picked up their Ministry issued rucksacks and made their way towards the lift. “Thanks for letting me crash at your place again.” 

“’Course. You’re not sleeping in that huge house without someone there with you. Hermione and I might row some but you’re family, Harry. You know that.” 

“Fair enough. I’ll stay with you tonight. But if Hermione takes your ear,” 

“I know – don’t beat on my door whinging about it.” 

“Damn right!” 

Harry took a handful of Floo powder from his pocket and made his way to their flat in Islington. Ron watched his friend head home, to his flat, while he needed some time alone before talking with Dad. 

He walked onward to the Ministry apparition point. At almost 4am, no one was queued up to depart. But then there never was at 4am. 

Ron landed on the sand outside of Shell cottage. The stars showed in the nighttime sky and the cold surf blew over his face. He stretched out, reaching his hands towards the moon, hearing the crack of his back after the hours spent hunched over the conference room table while hashing out details for the rescue mission. He stood there, feeling the sand shifting under his feet, much like how he’d had to adapt to the changing conditions in the case. Everyone had been on the defensive since the case went pear shaped, and then it really went to hell with Hermione. He needed something to happen to change the situation, from defense to attack. 

He needed his queen in his corner, not fighting against him. Maybe the row when he got home would change her mind, and show Hermione how cocked up things were. 

“It’s Mum, Hermione. Why can’t you see that she’s worth it? My life isn’t worth shite if she dies. And if I die to save her life, it’s a small price to pay.” Ron rubbed his cheeks, thankful that no one was on the sandy beach at almost 4 in the inky morning. “She’s done so much!” 

Ron walked along the path which wound through the beach on the shoreline. Sand kicked up over the toes of his boots and soaking his socks. Cold saltwater sprays misted across his 2 day unshaven cheeks, quelling his over-heated skin. 

He walked the path to their residence while muttering to himself under the moonlight. “She’s going to take my bollocks if she finds out the real plan. But no one’s going to talk about the actual mission, but the actual one. They know the risks, the other Aurors.” 

Then again, he was an Auror, and cases rarely went according to the book. The only difference was Hermione being a certified pain in the arse. 

Ron took a deep breath. “I wish Hermione would understand. Shite, I never thought she’d be the one to question my judgement on a cocked up case. I hope she’s not considering divorcing me over the bloody case.” 

Ron stepped through the sea oats on the walk up to the residence. 

“Christamighty, I hate it when she’s right as rain, and dead wrong at the same bloody time. And then she’s trying to control the damn situation when it’s completely out of control. I love her but she’s completely barking right now. Shite, this case is so fucked up.” 

Ron walked up the stone path to the house. He was permitted to pass the wards and while he loved his barmy wife, duty came first. He needed to talk with Dad, and Charlie, if he was still awake. He needed to talk, and probably row, with Hermione but she could wait. Her epic strop would be postponed. He needed to get sorted before he dealt with his stalwart yet catastrophically wrong wife. 

“I hope Dad’s awake,” Ron said to himself. 

Ron stepped through the magical wards and saw the lights on in the kitchen. None of the other lights were on in the house. But since it was four, he didn’t expect anyone else to be up this early, not on a Saturday morning. Fleur might, while tending Victorie. 

He walked up to the door and quietly let himself in. 

“Fancy seeing you this time of the morning. Cuppa?” Arthur asked from the table. 

Ron smiled and let the relief wash over his face. “Don’t mind if I do.” He didn’t have to ask why Dad was awake at 4am.Ron sat down across from his father and tried to shrug off the night’s stress. It refused, clinging to him like wet dragon dung. 

“We’re waiting on our spy to return before we finalize Mum’s rescue.” 

“I know you’ll do it, son. No better man on the case than you.” 

The men sat in silence, listening to the seconds tick by with each beat of their hearts. 

“We have a plan,” Ron said suddenly. “It’s a bit tricky and there’s plenty that go wrong but we won’t know ‘til our contact returns. We’re both going in, Harry and me.” 

Arthur put his cup down and took off his glasses. Ron saw the strain on his father’s face as well as the age hidden under his glasses. “You’re so much like your Mum, you know. You put stock in plans, in timelines, and sheer optimism. There’s not a thing she can’t cook with magic, and there’s not a plan she can’t execute, at least when it came to getting all you kids ready to go somewhere. All that I had to do was find the Portkey and follow along.” Arthur looked up at his son. In the early morning candle light of the kitchen, his eyes were too bright. “I might have the ideas, and certainly curiosity, but your Mum is the reason why all of you turned out so well. I wasn’t there as much, trying to make galleons to keep the family fed.” 

“Dad, it’s not true. You were there. You showed me what it was to be a man, upholding duty and living honorably. You taught me what it takes to care for the family and how to treat a woman and inspired my love of chess.” 

Arthur looked up from his tea cup. “You turned out much better than I expected. Mummy would tell me when she finally came to bed that the twins took so much of her time – Ginny too! – that you had to cope on your own much of the day. You got overlooked so much ‘cause of the twins. Percy tried to help, as much as he could, along with Bill and Charlie too. But they were busy, either off at school or helping Mum with chores that you were overlooked.” 

Arthur poured another cup of tea before starting again. “You needed more than we gave, as much as I tried to give you when I got home.” 

“Dad,” Ron implored. 

“And then we get a letter from Percy after your first day at Hogwarts. You met Harry and our lives changed forever. You knew about the poor lad, at least as stories, before you met him. But you still sat with him, shared sweets, and made a fast friend – one who wasn’t family. He’s your brother in everything but blood – and in some ways, closer than family. 

“How could we compare next to Harry, and later, Hermione? You were most fortunate that they liked you for you, and not the galleons we didn’t have in the vault, or that we had a humble home.” 

“That’s not true and you know it,” Ron protested. 

“Oh, Mum and I know it now, but having another mouth to feed during the summer was hard. When Hermione would stay, that made it doubly difficult.” Ron saw the shame on his father’s face. “That’s why I worked extra hard at those times. You were growing like a weed those years and Harry was too. Sure, he had galleons in the vault, but those were entrusted for his schooling. We know because we asked Dumbledore and Bill to look into it.” 

“Dad, it wasn’t about the money. You know that. Both of them cherish mum’s cooking and don’t care my trousers were thrice mended.” Ron turned his head to hide his feelings about his own hand-me-downs. “Hell, Hermione loves Mum’s hand-knitted jumpers.” 

“Wasn’t it? We had to have enough to feed you kids, and Mum stretched everything she could, as far as she could. Yes, potatoes are cheap but it gets expensive when you have to make a huge pot for 9 for one meal. She did all she could with what I provided. There were plenty of mornings that her breakfast was a slice of toast and tea, so you kids would have enough to eat. She skipped many lunches so you’d have corned beef sandwiches to eat.” 

Ron swallowed the shame in his heart. He hated corned beef sandwiches but never realized Mum did without so he could eat what he loathed. 

“You learned loyalty from her, really, not me. She was the one who had a bright future. Instead, she ran off with me to get married and raise a family. No, if anyone taught you loyalty and duty, it was Mum.” Arthur wiped his face. Ron turned away so he’d not see his father shed tears. “And yet, whether in action or inaction, I hurt those I love the most.” 

Ron stood up and went to kneel at his father’s knee. “Dad, what’s with this rubbish?” 

“Don’t you see, Ron? We were poor because I wanted to work with things that interested me. I chose my love of things Muggle, of things that impacted Muggles, instead of chasing promotions and having false ambition. Sure, I provided for my family, barely, but I wasn’t a knock on Uncle Bilius, who had an entire vault filled with Galleons.” Arthur looked at his youngest son. “You had it hardest, the youngest son. Even Ginny had newer robes. You had things handed down three and four times, only held together by your Mum’s diligent hands. You had it hardest, doing with the least when you needed more than we gave you. 

“And now, because I gave mercy, however short, to a murderer, Mum’s been kidnapped, held for ransom in exchange of my life. Instead of making the noble sacrifice, like the sod wanted, you and Harry are going to go rescue her, putting yourselves in harm’s way, all for my benefit.” 

“Dad, we’re Aurors. It’s our job. We’d have done this for that git Malfoy if it’d had happened to Mrs. Malfoy.” 

“And that’s what makes you a better man, Ron. You’d help anyone in need, with Harry at your side. And I bet you biscuits that everyone was helping you plan it out.” 

Ron stood up and went to the stove and put the kettle of water on. “Not completely. Percy did at first, but he had to get back to his job with the Minister. Bill helped and the Director requested his further assistance. I’m also going to need Charlie too once we go in. Harry’s got my back but Hermione has been a pain in my arse the entire time.” 

“Hermione? I thought she was helping you on this.” 

“I can’t explain anything right now, ‘cause of the case, but it’s completely messed up. The protocol book went out the window on day one. So we’ve had to resort to other means, some which aren’t necessarily approved by the Wizengamot, to get Mum back.” 

“What law?” 

“The Magical Creature Act of 2000, the one Hermione spent months on to get passed.” 

“Does Kingsley know about this?” 

“He’s been informed every step of the way.” 

“So what’s the problem?” 

“Hermione filed a complaint against the department regarding what we’re doing to get Mum back.” 

Arthur wrung his hands. “You’re not breaking the law to get Mum back. That’s wrong.” 

“What’s wrong, Dad, is that this sod took Mum in the first blood place. What’s wrong is that everything that we’ve tried to do, by the sodding book, hasn’t worked out. What’s wrong is that the bleeding Solicitors aren’t in the country, having gone on Holiday. What’s wrong is the Mugwump and his assistants are gone too. We’d have cleared with the Wizengamot immediately had they been available.” 

Arthur ignored Ron’s tirade and tried to steer him back to the conversation. “But Kingsley signed off on it, right? You’re not doing this without his authorization, right?” 

“Course, dad. This isn’t me and Harry trying to break into the Ministry to steal one bloody locket.” 

Arthur gave his son a look but didn’t question that further. “So if you get called before a board of inquiry, you’re doing everything ethically, as much by the book as possible, and will answer for it, if they find wrongdoing.” 

“Of course. I learned that from you.” 

“So when do you plan to go get Mummy?” 

“Sometime before the deadline. We’re waiting on one person to get back with information before we can finalize plans. But we need Bill and Charlie to help.” 

“What about other Aurors? Why aren’t they helping?” 

“Bill’s the best cursebreaker in England. He offered and we’ll hopefully have a way to get past the magical wards. Charlie’s needed for brute strength. We can’t risk magic on Mum, not with what we know about the situation. So he’s needed to physically carry her out.” 

“Is she hurt?” 

“We’re working from the assumption that she is. You’ve not heard from the sod, have you?” 

“No, he said he wouldn’t send anything until the time was up.” 

“So that still gives us about 30 hours or so to rescue her.” 

“I thought I heard you in here,” Bill said. Fleur strolled into the kitchen behind her husband, wearing a flowing robe of azure flannel. “Anything yet?” 

“Nothing yet but we need your help further. We’ll also need Charlie too. Where is he?” 

“He’s asleep on the couch, with Victorie sleeping on his chest.” Fleur smiled. 

Bill scowled. “I told you, until I have the originator’s blood, there’s not a thing I can do to break the wards. Once you have his blood, and more than just a drop, then I can break them.” 

“But Hermione seems to think – “

“Neither of you are listening, are you? If I can’t break them, even with close relatives, then no one can break them, short of the originator and his blood. It’s suicide to attempt to breach them without blood. That’s why the ones in Argentina are still secure. They used blood in their magic and it was corrupted, and many cursebreakers died trying to open them. Gringott’s wrote it off as a bad job years ago. Only the arrogant and completely stupid try now.” 

“Well, she’s of the opinion that there’s a way. I tried to tell her, short of screaming at her, that we don’t have weeks or months to play around with archaic spells and ancient tomes.” 

“And you’re being a git for listening to her and not me. You’re taught the first week at Gringotts that if the wards are corrupted, then nothing short of blood from the same person will break them.” 

Ron turned to his Dad who was still sitting at the table, nursing his tepid tea. “Do you now you see why this entire case is messed up. Nothing has been by the book since the whole bloody thing started.” 

Arthur looked at his gathered family. “I understand now why Hermione is fighting you. You’re deviating from official protocols but she’s steadfast in adhering to them.” 

Fleur came to the table and brought platters of eggs and slices of ham and another kettle of tea. “Eat up. I will cook more.” 

The men tucked in, devouring her breakfast. Even Arthur finished his plate. “Fleur, your cooking has improved dramatically. The eggs and slices of ham were excellent.” 

“Merci, papa. Molly is an excellent teacher.” 

Bill grunted and so did Ron, eating heartily at the breakfast afforded. They finished off the platter of eggs and ham when Fleur dropped a platter of croissants in front of them. “Fresh out of the oven,” Fleur said redundantly. She wobbled back towards the stove. 

Ron took two and slathered strawberry preserves on them. “I’ll finish these then head home. I need to talk with Hermione before she goes to work today.” He shoved the first one in his mouth. 

“Will you be back today?” 

“I’ll return to ask Charlie once he wakes. I need his help too.” 

“What for?” Bill inquired. 

“If Mum has to be carried out of the house, without magic, he’s the strongest one I know and about the only one who could do it.” 

“Why not use magic?” 

Ron looked at the remaining croissant and put it back down. “We don’t know for certain what the sod has done to her. If he’s hurt her, using magic to carry her out of the residence might kill her.” Ron looked fiercely across the table. “We can’t jeopardize her, not until a healer looks her over and reverses whatever spells the sod put on her.” 

“Ron, what’s wrong?” Fleur sat down beside her brother in law and put a hand on his shoulder. “You’re doing the best you can, given the circumstances 

“This whole thing is fucked up.” 

“Ron, watch your language!” 

Ron smiled at his dad, eerily reminiscent of his mum. “Yes, Dad. Sorry.” He cleared his throat. “But it really is. Some git decides Dad murdered his brother and wants to get revenge. So he kidnaps Mum, holds her hostage to get Dad to come to him where he can kill him. Bloody barmy if you ask me.” Ron picked up his teacup and saw it was hot again, probably courtesy of Fleur. “So now Harry and I, along with a few others, have to rescue Mum, without getting her hurt further, and capture the bloke. Completely mad, I tell you.” 

“If he were an honest bloke, he’d have not done these things.” Bill added. 

“You don’t know him like I do. I’ve known of him since I was a teenager. Bloke has been barmy since he came to Hogwarts, all ‘cause of his brother. He’s made one bad decision after another and making worse choices to stay by his nefarious brother’s side. No, the bloke’s no good at all. He should be in Azkaban the rest of his days.” 

“How can we help?” Bill asked after putting down his teacup. 

“I know I can’t do much except keep Bill and Charlie fed, and Papa safe.” 

“You’re doing a great job, too.” Ron leaned over and hugged Fleur, pregnant belly and all. “You’re keeping Dad safe and distracted while I work to get Mum. That helps me so much.” He kissed her on the cheek. “Feeding me is a bonus.” Ron shoved the half-eaten croissant into his mouth and swallowed it all. “I need to get home. I have to get some sleep before being back on the clock at 12. I need to have my stuff caught up before our spy returns.” 

“Ron, you never mentioned who you got to go in. And since I couldn’t break the spell, it must mean a real reason why Hermione has been fighting you every step of the way.” 

“It is, Bill. I wanted to try everything else first but we just didn’t have the time to try all other options first.” 

Bill’s expression changed when he realized the situation. “That’s why Hermione has been at your throat over this, isn’t it?” 

“I tried everything except that, Bill. Hell, I wanted to try polyjuicing myself as the bugger but even Kreacher said it wouldn’t work ‘cause I’d still have wizard’s magic. He said I’d die in the attempt.” 

“And Hermione blew up at you for even considering it, didn’t she?” 

“Of course she did. But like I told Dad, everything on this sodding case –“

“Ron!” 

“Sorry Dad. But everything on this case has been messed up since everything started. Nothing by the book has worked, which is why we have to get approval from Kingsley to do anything. And since the Wizengamot can’t reconvene, especially with the head Mugwump out of country, we’re between a firecrab and a dragon on this.” 

“No wonder why you have to use unorthodox methods. I bet Robards is in a strop over it.” 

“That’s Hermione’s doing. She’s done everything but had him arrested over this case.” 

“You think you can get her to see reason and logic?” 

“That’s why I want to get home. I want her to help, not interfere, every step of the bloody way.” 

“Well, go on with yourself then. Take the Floo, it’ll be quicker.” 

Ron went to the fireplace in the tiny living room and procured a handful of Floo powder. “I’ll come back once we know what is happening and what the plan is.” He looked at his family and felt a rush of emotion trying to choke him. “Fleur, keep them safe, please.” 

“I will,” she said quietly. 

Ron threw the powder into the fireplace and said the address of their flat. He spiraled away in a swirl of green flames and landed in his own fireplace in their flat in Islington. He was greeted once again by the smell of scones and rashers cooking on the stovetop. 

“Hermione,” Ron said into the flat. 

She stood up from one of the bottom cabinets with another skillet in her hands. “I was getting a pan to make eggs.” “Don’t bother. Fleur fed me this morning while I talked with Dad.” “Oh,” Hermione replied quietly. “Then I’ll just go get my shower and get ready for work.”

“Wait,” he begged, “we need to talk.”


	10. Speak now or forever

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A debate of morals and ethics potentially derail the case while Ron and Harry discuss what's next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** My thanks to Neogoblin for the question last week as well as the readers. Much appreciated - _DG_

* * *

"Wait," he begged, "we need to talk." 

"It's about the case, isn't it?" 

"Yeah, it is." Ron stepped into their small kitchen and sat down at the two seat table. "Look, I know this whole thing is fucked up, but I'm trying every sodding thing I can, by the book, so you won't take my bollocks once this case is finished." Ron ran his hands through his hair while fumbling the words that wouldn't cooperate. "And I know you value elves, and it's illegal for what we've done, but it's Mum, alright? You're asking me to choose and, legal or illegal, it's no bloody choice, Hermione. I'm trying to do everything I can to keep you from leaving me, all because some asshole with a vendetta has it in for Dad." 

Hermione stepped away from the stove and pulled her chair from the table so she could sit down in front of her husband. His hands were so large in comparison, and they held so much responsibility and difficult burdens for such a young age. She took them in her own anyway. While was in his work robes, she was still dressed in her sleep togs – an old Weasley jumper along with fleece sleep trousers. 

"I'm not trying to be a harpy about this case. But I fought like hell to get that law passed and then this happens and the other Aurors have no problem with your suggestion of using an Elf to do their job, even if meant risking his life and not theirs." She squeezed his hands to get him to listen. 

"But you're choosing an elf, a free elf at that, over Mum's life. How is that right?" 

"It's not, but there's more at stake here than Mum's life." 

"What's more important that Mum's life, one stodgy elf who can barely lift a tea cup?" 

"Yes, if you think about it differently." 

"You're full of shite, Hermione!" Ron roared in anger and threw the plate of toast against the wall. "Mum's life is worth mine ten times over and a hundred elves. How can you say such rubbish?" 

"You'd have been a better Death Eater, Ron, with that kind of attitude." 

"Oh that's fucking low, even from you." Venom dripped from his lips. "You've gone mad." Ron pushed his chair further back, trying to distance himself from her. 

"Have I? Think about it. Death Eaters had no qualms violating the law, or writing new ones, to suit their whims. They had no problems breaking previously written and passed law, to get what they wanted, or to gain power over others. They used the law like a bludgeon to force the populace to cower in abject fear. They used fiat regulations, not approved by the Wizengamot, to control the Purebloods who didn't comply with their agenda. 

"Look at Umbridge. She wrote new laws almost immediately following the death of Scrimgeour. Some, she'd written before his demise, which is how the Wizengamot knew she was part of the conspiracy! She embraced the laws that she wrote to get Muggles and those with undocumented heritage arrested, charged, and incarcerated, all because they weren't confirmed. She directed the registration commission with moral justification that sent innocent people to Azkaban, _just because they weren't certified Purebloods!_ She made that regulation immediately legal! She celebrated when Muggles perished in there, without following the laws of the land much less impartial justice. How's that any different from other genocides?" 

"You're still full of shite." 

"Am I? When is the need so great, so demanding, that breaking a law is morally correct? When a law is written, when is it necessary to break it? What makes breaking a law justified?" 

"When it's my bloody Mother's life is at stake, alright?" Ron yelled. 

"And what about other mothers, huh? What about Fathers? Shouldn't they be protected too? Children? Children of Death Eaters? The Pansy Parkinsons of the world? Shouldn't they have protection under the law as well? What about those who haven't been convicted of a crime, yet are ostracized from society for something they can't control? What about those who were born different? Shouldn't they have protection under the Law as well? Werewolves and squibs are viewed as second class citizens under Wizarding law. What about them?" Hermione yelled back. "This isn't the old regime, where you could break the law at a whim for any reason at all!" 

"I'm not talking about them. We're talking about my bloody Mother and her life at stake." 

Hermione moved her chair closer, getting her face in line with his. "I know, but if you break the law for one person, then the next time you feel justified, it'll happen and there will not be someone to fight against you. How easy would it be, in a couple of years, to realize how corrupted you are, when it started for the most noble of reasons?" 

"It won't get that way." Ron stood resolute against his wife's interrogations. 

"You say that now, promising that while your integrity still holds intact. How much will the job change you, in a year, or even three? Would you relent and look the other way when another Auror blackmails you for breaking the law on this case, or begs you to ignore the situation when it's his brother who is under indictment? How will you stand up to scrutiny in the department when everyone else knows you bend the law when it's necessary, or convenient, or even potentially prudent? How many criminals will go free because you broke procedures, bent laws for your benefit? How many will stay free because you can be coerced into doing their bidding?" 

"That won't happen." 

"But it's already starting, isn't it, when the best reason occurs. Getting Mum back is a noble reason, but you had to break a law to do it." 

"Kreacher's a free elf, damn it! I didn't force him to do it." 

"But he's still an elf and under the law, unable to consent." 

"And you're treating him like he's still a bloody house elf, Hermione. He's a free fucking elf, and can make his own choices. He chose to help us, willingly, and that's not fucking illegal." 

"That's for the Wizengamot to decide, not you or Director Robards. He's an elf and a civilian, not an Auror, and it's illegal for him to help on the case. You endangered him." 

"And you'd rather I die in tainted wards than use what means we could to rescue Mum!" Ron knocked over his chair and stalked into the living room. "Then they should have been fucking present so they could decide, not us. Quit making me out like the criminal here, Hermione. I'm fighting like hell to get Mum back from a kidnapper and murderer, yet you're squeezing my bollocks worse than anyone else." 

"I don't care about anyone else, except you, Ron Weasley. I married you and I want you to do everything by the book. I want Mum back too, but not at the risk of him being freed by the court because the Aurors screwed up the case by taking short cuts." 

"I don't give a shite about him, just getting Mum back." Ron ran his hands through his unkempt hair. "I've been hunting this bastard for years. If he's released, I'll go right back after him." 

"So you're planning on killing him." She stated clearly. 

"I'm not planning on it but if it happens, in self-defense, so be it." 

"Then you shouldn't be an Auror, if you can't follow the laws that the Wizengamot have passed. It's as simple as that." 

"This whole fucking case isn't simple." 

"I never said it was," Hermione stepped away, back towards the hallway to their bedroom and shower. "Kingsley's right. Bad cases make worse case law and even more constraining laws following it. But you have to decide whether following all the law is important, or if one person's life is more important." 

"It's Mum, damn it. There is no choice." 

"I know, but I'm just saying there will be consequences if you break the law willingly." Hermione turned to go to the shower. "Even the kidnapper thinks they are justified in their actions." 

"I'm nothing like that fucker, Hermione." 

"Aren't you? You're breaking the law for the most noble of purposes. You've wanted to kill because someone dropped a wall on Fred. You killed a werewolf who was trying to kill you. So what makes his choices wrong and yours right?" 

"And didn't you try to kill Bellatrix?" 

"Of course I did. That was in the heat of battle." 

"So quit being a sodding hypocrite. I'm not letting Mum die, not when I will do anything I can to get her out of there alive." 

"So own up to it. Admit you are breaking a law you don't agree with, and pay the price for it." 

"I already am, aren't I? You're twisting my bits over this sodding law you got passed when it's a fucking free elf helping us. I'm already dealing with shite in the department and now I have to deal with you crucifying me too. You'd rather I die in tainted blood wards than break the law." Ron sat down on the chair and thrust his head into his hands. "You'd have me on a fucking slab like my uncles, along with Mum, Dad, and George too, than break the precious law you had passed. 

"Your work isn't more important than the entire family who loves you dearly." 

"That's not true and you know it. Everyone is rushing decisions and judgement without taking time for due diligence on this case. Merlin, Ron, you've lost focus because the case is personal, because it involves family. I don't want you dead but you're making terrible decisions because it's Mum.” 

"They should have pulled you and Harry from the case since you're personally involved." 

Ron looked up from his hands and saw the worry on Hermione's face. "And where can we pull Aurors from their cases to work this one, huh? We're still half staffed, three years after the damn war. Between mandatory standards, set by the Wizengamot, attrition from injuries and death, and retirements, how the hell can we have enough people to shift the entire department to keep us off this case, huh? It's not like we can hire another 10 bureaucrats to do our job. We're Aurors, not secretaries!" 

"They could have – "

"No. You're trying to manage the whole situation and it's out of control. You'd spend the entire time searching a damn book when the solutions aren't in there. You're barmy because your precious quest for knowledge is coming up empty! You'd kill half the department trying out your theories when we went the safest route, as illegal as it was, and got results. You're upset because your precious law was broken by a free elf that made a choice you didn't appreciate, and it got results." 

"Am I, or am I trying to have the department do things by the book, all legal, so this man is kept in Azkaban forever instead of getting released." She shrugged her shoulders once, in resignation. "They might blame you for this, if it goes sideways. You know that they will protect themselves over protecting you." 

"Sod'em if they do. Mum's worth the price. I'll pay it if I have to." 

"And to me?" 

Ron stood up from the couch and stepped up to Hermione. "I'm already paying it, aren't I? You know there's no choice there either. You're my wife but she's Mum. Don't make me choose between you and Mum again." He gave her one very intense look. "I chose you but she's my Mum." 

"I know. But I wanted to make sure you know that, in your head and heart, before everything goes to hell." 

Ron stepped into Hermione's personal space, backing her into the wall of their flat. "I know it's going to go to hell. My life is forfeit if Mum dies. But I'll be arsed if I don't try to do something about it. I'm not losing 4 more people in my family because the law constrains me when a criminal has free reign." 

"You're not losing me." Hermione put her hands on his chest. "But I will stand up for what's right, and legal." 

"I love you, and I choose you. That's why you're going to help me catch this bastard and bring him to justice." Fierce pride showed on Ron's face. "Please, help me." 

* * *

Sunlight stole in through the curtains of the miniscule second bedroom of Ron and Hermione's flat. It crept across the room to eventually settle on Harry's face. He woke with a start once it hit his myopic eyes. "Bugger," he groaned before shoving his glasses onto his face. The wind-up clock on the side table said almost 11am. 

Sneaking into his sanctuary of a room was easy enough at a little before 4am. Hermione wasn't awake and he didn't trip coming into their flat. A hasty bowl of lamb stew sufficed for dinner before he slipped into the spare bedroom and collapsed into the bed. Before sleep overtook him, he worked his wand, silencing the door, walls, floor, and ceiling, to keep the row that was coming from waking him up. 

He expected them to go their separate ways for the day – Ron to bed and Hermione to work. 

His stomach disagreed. He woke at half six, hungry while craving biscuits and pumpkin juice from his nap. Dinner, as large as it was, hadn't been enough supper. Instead, he stepped out of the room and immediately stopped. His half-asleep eyes registered what he saw in the den – Ron and Hermione on the couch. He'd seen it all before, plenty of times actually when they all lived at Grimmauld Place. But seeing them again, _that way_ in their den, didn't satisfy his craving. 

Instead, he slipped back into his room and fell asleep. 

Harry cracked open the door and the only sound was Ron's snoring, coming from the den. 

"Maybe Hermione left us lunch," he muttered as he padded down the quiet hallway. An obnoxious snore greeted Harry as he stepped into the kitchen. He looked across the counter and saw Ron sleeping on the oversized couch Hermione found for them at a charity shop. His clothes were disheveled and from the way the handwoven blanket tossed over him, Ron's slept there this morning rather than his own bedroom. "Figures," Harry said to himself before looking in the cooling cabinet. 

Harry stepped into their galley kitchen and found a pot of stew and a warm loaf of bread waiting for them. "It's nice of her to leave it under warming charms. I hope it hasn't burned since earlier this morning," as he ladled out a heaping serving. "Not like I'd complain about her cooking. At least she's helping in some ways." 

"Cooking meals right doesn't mean she's still not barmy about all this." 

Harry looked up to see Ron standing in the doorway to the kitchen. His hair was a mess and his clothes were rumpled from being slept in. "Thought you'd have slept in your bedroom." 

"Nah. All the other shite on this mission has fucked up my sleep. I couldn't get comfortable so I slept out here." 

"I thought that Hermione knocking you out this morning would have helped." 

"It did," Ron's cheeks and ears turned red. "Once we finished rowing. She's still in a strop. I still can't change her mind on this whole bloody issue about House elves. She's dead set against us since we've asked Kreacher to help us. But at least I know she's not planning on divorcing me." 

"She wouldn't divorce you," Harry mumbled. "She loves you too much." Harry looked at Ron and saw him still half-asleep. "Does she understand that the wards will kill any wizard or witch who tries to go through them? I dunno about you but once was enough." 

"She's not listening, Harry. She won't consider what Bill told her, and he's an expert. Merlin knows I've tried to convince her, repeatedly. But she's upset because we asked Kreacher, even if he is a free elf. It doesn't matter that he chose to help, No, she's barmy, thinking we have control over him. She says that since he's an elf, he can't consent." 

"That's barking!" Harry handed over his plate to Ron and spooned out a second one. 

They tucked in, deep in thoughts, while eating the first meal of the day. "Better eat up since we might be on duty a while," Ron said through bites of his lamb stew. 

"We're going to clock plenty of hours today, because Kreacher will return while we're on duty." 

"Shite." 

"Yeah." 

Ron took another bite of his meal. "This bugger hurts Mum, I might have a problem." 

"That's why the plan is for me to go in first, not you. You just have to save my ass." 

"But –"

"I'm going in first. That's the plan and we're sticking with it. We can't have you losing your shite and mucking up everything that we're doing to save Mum." 

"I know. But Mum shouldn't be involved. I'd see if you or I got kidnapped, that's one thing. But mum? It's fucked up." 

"I know but we're gonna get her back. The plan is a good one. Really is." 

"I hope so. I don't want to have to tell Dad any bad news." 

"How'd it go this morning? You did talk to him, didn't you?" 

"Yeah, we did, 'til Bill and Fleur walked in." 

"Bill gonna help?" 

"Only once we get some of the bugger's blood. He said it's pointless for him to keep trying to breach the wards unless we have it. He can't breach the magic unless we have it, because the blood is the cementing component. Without it, we're just beating our hands against a brick wall. So he'll be back out there when we start the rescue, not 'til then." 

"And Charlie?" 

"I'm running by to ask him before going on the clock. We'll firecall him when we're ready for him to come to the department for the debriefing before we go in." 

Harry looked at his watch. "It's after 11. You've got time to run by and see him for a tick is you got your shower now." 

"What about you? It's not like I'm sharing my shower with you," Ron cheeked. "You're not bushy haired and you don't snog worth a damn. You look like a damn squid, snogging my sister." 

Harry threw a bread crust at Ron. "I'll wait 'til you've left to get my shower and head to the Ministry. I don't need to see the beast again." 

"You sure?" Ron smirked. "Then again, the Beast isn't your type either." 

"Sod off, wanker. I'm good. I'm getting another bowl of lunch." 

Ron put the dishes in the sink and set them to scrub. "When did you send him off, 4pm? I could use an hour to get my paperwork caught up." Ron watched the dishes rinse in the sink. "All this waiting is doing my head in. Mum needs to be home with Dad." 

"We will. We'll get her out of there, alive and in one piece." 

"Harry," 

"Yeah?" 

"If he hurt Mum, don't tell me. I'll lose my shite fast that way." 

"I won't. But I will tell you once the sod's in a cell." 

"Fair enough. I'm sure Charlie will agree. His part in the plan makes sense." 

"Good. Now get going." 

Ron left Harry sitting at their small table, looking at his spoon. 

* * *

Ron walked into the department and saw his wife and Minister coming out of Director Robard's office. "Hermione, what are you doing here?" 

"Director Robards and I just finished our meeting. I wanted to discuss with him why it's ethically wrong to use a house elf on an Auror mission." 

"Director, Minister, can you excuse us? I need a few words with my wife, _in private_."

"I've nothing to hide, Ron. Anything you say can be said here, in front of everyone." 

"I said _**in private**_ and I mean it." Ron turned back towards the double doors of the department. 

"Don't you turn your back on me, Ron Weasley." 

Ron kept walking until he reached them. "Either row with me in private, or not at all." 

Ron shoved the doors open and left. Hermione picked up her stack of papers and books and ran out after him. 

Ron took long strides towards the lifts. He heard Hermione's heel clicks following him while pointedly ignoring her yelling for him. He punched the button to summon the lift. 

"Ron, stop right now." 

He turned and she took a step forward. "What has gotten into you?" 

"Oh, I dunno, maybe that I thought our row this morning would have been enough to put you off trying to ramrod the whole bloody procedure manual back up the department's collective cocked up ass. But I see that you're still trying to sabotage the fucking process while I'm busting my bollocks to get her back. I know; I shouldn't be barmy about the whole fucking mess." 

The metal grating doors opened and he stepped inside. Hermione followed and hit another button, locking down the lift. "And you couldn't bother to wait a few hours to let me finish, could you?" 

"When it's my Mum on the line, and her life is at stake, you bloody well know I will do everything I can to rescue her. Same goes for you." He looked at her and saw the exhaustion etched into her face. "Why don't you trust Bill, when he's said repeatedly that your ideas won't work? Have you even talked with him since that shouting match in the Director's office?" 

"We've been too busy – "

"I did," Ron roared. "this morning! You need blood, Hermione. Blood that is behind those damn wards. Wards that would kill any witch or wizard that tried to go through them!" 

"That's not true! I just haven't figured it out yet." 

"Quit letting your pride dictate this case, Hermione. Sod it, and Sod the laws you love so much! We needed him to get inside." 

"But it's illegal, and highly unethical to use a house elf to do your job. It's wrong and you know it." 

"What would you have me do?" Ron yelled in the confined lift. "You'd have me sit on my arse and let the bastard kill Mum? You think I could wait for hours while you read and tried to find information in that sodding book in your hands, hoping and praying that the spell you found could possibly help Bill? Bill said it himself – we need the kidnapper's blood. And how righteous would you be when you got him and Mum killed? Could you look in the mirror, knowing that people died because you messed up? You're not a curse breaker! You're an Elf advocate!" 

"That's not the point and you know it." 

"Oh yeah? Then what is?" 

"You're using people who have no business doing Auror work instead of doing the job yourself." 

"And you're full of shite. You're the one who's been beastly since this whole damn thing started. I was asking questions and doing my own research and you're holding my bollocks for ransom. How the fuck can I do my job if you're standing there, breathing down my neck every second, questioning my judgment on this? I know the laws and rules as well as you do, Hermione." 

"Then you should have not bothered to consider using a bloody house elf in this. You and Harry should have gone in and done the job yourself." 

"So that's it, huh? You'd rather us sacrifice our lives, along with killing Bill, than hurt one precious free elf. I get it now, entirely." Ron punched the button on the lift. "Since that's how you value me and the dangerous job I do, you can march your arse back to your desk and stay the fuck away from mine." 

"I'm not going to sit at my desk while you break rules and laws, even if it is Mum at stake. I'm an officer of the court too, and it's my duty to complain when the laws are broken inside this Ministry!" 

"You're just pissed that Kreacher chose to do this. But Kreacher's not Dobby, and you can't blame us for trying every single thing we can to save Mum's life." 

"But you didn't wait for me to figure that out, did you?" 

"You're not listening! You can't break those wards. They're corrupted! We don't have the time for you to read the whole fuckin' library in the Department of Mysteries to come to the same damn conclusion!" 

"Yes you can! I need time!" 

"You'd trust Narcissa Malfoy over Bill? Now I know you're barking!" 

"But she said – "

"She's a fucking Malfoy, Hermione! We can't trust her. She lied to Voldemort's face! Do you honestly think she gives a shite about Mum? You'd have us sitting on our asses, waiting 'til time was up and then have dad notify the sod, ' _Sorry, but we need another day to mount a heroic rescue of Mrs. Weasley. My wife is reading a book on how to break the cocked-up wards on your property. Please wait until we notify you._ ' This isn't one of Ginny's books, Hermione. This is real and it's shite and nothing is working out according to plan." 

"You're gonna get him killed." 

"And you're going to get her killed. Kreacher isn't Dobby, Hermione. He chooses to work for Harry. We made him take every precaution we could think of, to protect himself from harm. He was to do nothing heroic. He's there to look, check on Mum, and then get back to us." 

"And you asked him to go in there, where you have no clue what's going on, and get hurt. That's irresponsible!" 

"So you'd rather me and Harry die, going through corrupted wards, in a form that isn't meant for human transformation, to get the intel ourselves? How many Auror lives are worth that suicide mission, Hermione? Five? Ten? Fifty? We had a solution, as bloody barmy as it was, and we took it, and didn't bloody wait on you. It was a calculated risk and we took it, just like we do on other missions I go out on." 

"And how many laws will you break on this case? What will you do when the kidnapper walks free because the Auror department broke every single rule enacted on this one case? I know it's Mum but there is a greater responsibility, to the law, that you are bound? 

" "The law isn't always right. You know that 'cause you said it yourself! Umbridge murdered people within the law while she was running that blasted commission." Ron turned towards the opposite wall, refusing to look at Hermione. "The only one who is responsible for this cocked up mess is that bastard who kidnapped Mum. He touched her and I will make him pay for hurting her." Ron took a shuddering breath. 

"And who is responsible for you, when you retaliate against him, for starting all this, huh? Who will step in and save you when you break the law for killing him?" 

"Oh that's a dirty blow, Hermione. You were there when I took my oath, to the Ministry and this job. So don't tell me that I'm breaking the law on this case, because I'm not the one making these decisions. I wasn't even suggesting it until you pulled a face and got into a strop over the last resort methods we were talking about. Christ, I made a suggestion and you acted like I slapped you." 

"You had other methods, other things you could have used, to the same solution. You didn't have to ask a defenseless elf to help us on this!" She huffed and tried to wipe her eyes but kept breathing hard. "You could have gone under Polyjuice, breached the wards, and gone inside yourself!" 

"Quit grasping at trick wands, Hermione. Elf magic is completely different from Wizarding magic and he's far from defenseless. You know that better than anyone. Kreacher can do things I'd never consider or dream of. He can do things with his magic I'd never think of doing. Besides, I'd have to find a way to have a bottle with me and drink up every hour. He doesn't have those limitations!" 

"But you used an elf! It's ethically wrong to put him in that position in the first place." 

"I know," Ron stopped short. He took a deep breath and turned back to her. "You can't protect all of them, and you can't save them all. We asked, with witnesses, and he's a free elf, able to make his own choices. He made his own decision and he did – he's helping us. Don't get bent at me because he's acting like Dobby, helping wandholders in their quest for justice." 

"There were other options, other choices. You didn't have to pick the one non-human I've been fighting for, for years now less, to help you." 

"I didn't start this mess. He did. You're bitching we're breaking the law. Sometimes, the law is wrong. Sometimes, what is right isn't what is legal. Saving Mum is right. Asking Kreacher to help isn't legal but it's right. So quit twisting my bits about it!" 

"You're planning on killing him, aren't you? That's why you're not angry at the methods you're employing, isn't it? He's going to have an accident, where no one else is watching, and you're hands are clean of this mess. Please tell me I'm wrong. Tell me that you're not going to be Wizengamot, Mugwump, and Dementor in this whole sordid affair?" 

"Why would I hurt Kreacher? He's brilliant!" 

"I'm talking about the kidnapper, Ron!" 

Ron stood there stoic. He shook his head vehemently. "No," Ron growled out. 

"Tell me, are you planning on killing him?" 

"No. I'm an officer of the court, just like you. My oath is to arrest first, not kill on sight. I'm not a hit wizard." Ron slid down the side of the lift they were in. "I won't kill him, not if I can help it. That's what started this mess. Hell, all of us have, in self-defense, 'cept you. I don't regret killing Greyback, not in the least. But I promise you this," he wiped his own face of sweat and salt. 

Hermione knelt down to her husband and cradled his face. She let the emotions roll over her own features, with concern and fear showing the most. 

"Harry made me promise to keep my wand to myself, over what the sod's done to Mum. But if he raises a wand against me, or the team, I won't hesitate to kill him, in self-defense. I won't hesitate in the least." 

"You can't be the hand of vengeance. That's what the Wizengamot is for, to decide innocence or guilt. They are the final arbiters of justice, not you." 

"I'm an Auror, Hermione, and I've seen my share of shite already. I've killed in the line of duty, as a last bloody resort. I hate it, this part of it, but I won't hesitate if he's threatening me or the team." Ron's face grew stoic. Hermione leaned back in fright at the callousness turning into a mask. "If he raises his wand at me for an unforgiveable, I won't hold back. This isn't Defense class. This is field work. Hesitation will get me killed." 

"What about Mum? She'd not want you to be a murderer. I don't either." 

Ron lifted a hand from his face and kissed her palm. 

"Then he better to pray to whomever that he didn't lay another finger on Mum." Ron reached behind his head and started the lift. He stood up and dusted his bum off. "I have to get back to planning the rescue." 

"Ron?" 

"What?" He refused to look at Hermione. 

"I'm sorry I humiliated you in front of the Director. I was out of place." 

"I know and we'll talk about that once the mission is finished." He turned to look at Hermione. "Now, are you going to help us or not? We have an elf returning and he'll need your help." 

"If the case is going to hell, I might as well come along," she said under her voice. 

"I'm glad you're finally realizing that," Ron bit out before the doors opened. 

Ron went first, with Hermione following, heel clicks and quick strides, up the hallways and in through the double doors. Harry saw them first, looking like they were disheveled but not that they'd shagged in a supply closet. "Alright there Hermione?" 

She nodded and so did Ron. "Yeah, I reckon we had a meeting of the minds just now." He looked around the department. "Do we have any information from Kreacher yet?" 

"He's not shown up yet. He should be back shortly." 

Harry watched Hermione take her seat at her work desk, opening the tome she brought in with you. She pulled parchment and a quill from her bag and started writing. Harry watched Hermione twist hair between her fingertips and the shake of the quill in her hand. She was upset and trying to hide it from both of them. 

"You know you can call him, right?" Ron interrupted. 

"Yeah, I know, but I was waiting on him to return when he's finished. No need to blow his cover without good reason." 

"When he returns, I want to talk with him first. I need to make sure he's not been harmed or hurt inside those wards." Hermione spoke up without stopping her reading. 

"Fair enough, but you can't keep him long. We have to have his information so we can finalize the rescue plans." Harry added. 

"And figure a way to capture him without blowing the whole island up or alerting the Muggle authorities." Ron interjected. 

"Yeah, the less obliviators brought in, the better." Hermione said mindlessly. 

"Anything I need to do while we wait?" Ron added. 

"Are all of your reports finished?" Harry retorted. 

"I've still got the one from Portsmouth yesterday along with the progress report from last night." 

"I'd write it up for you if you want," Hermione added. 

"No, it's fine. I can write up the following: ' _Went to Portsmouth. Watched Elf infiltrator pass corrupted blood wards. Watched him come out. Watched him go back in. Reported back to the Ministry._ '"

"When you put it like that, it was a rather boring trip." Hermione added. 

"Honestly, it was." Ron sat down at his desk and pulled quill, ink well, and parchment from his desk drawer. He set in to write up his report from Portsmouth the day before. Ron ignored the others while writing up his report. 

Harry went over to Hermione's desk and put a hand on her shoulder. "Hermione?" 

"Yeah?" 

"You and Ron ok?" 

"We talked." She didn't look up from her book. 

"I know how your talking is." Harry pulled up a chair to sit next to Hermione. "I've heard your _talking_." 

"Alright, so we rowed, earlier and just now." 

"Like this morning?" 

Hermione turned, aghast. "You didn't hear us, did you?" 

"No. I silenced my room. I didn't hear you rowing. But," Harry turned his face away trying to keep from betraying what he did see. 

Hermione turned a bright shade of red. "You didn't, did you?" 

He nodded but refused to look at his best friend. "I came out of my room at half six to get some biscuits and pumpkin juice and saw you and Ron in the den. I didn't get a snack because the two of you – " 

"were rather busy on the couch and I would have seen you in the kitchen." Hermione finished with a blush. 

"Yeah. Something like that." 

"Look, Harry," 

"No, it's fine. I had seconds of breakfast while Ron got ready and stopped by to talk with Charlie. Before he came home, he went to talk with Dad, too." 

"How are they doing?" 

"I dunno, honestly. I've not talked with them. I've been busy here when I'm not crashing at your flat." 

"I didn't know you were asleep in the spare room. I saw the door closed and didn't think anything of it." 

"Because?" 

"Ron and I were rowing within minutes of him stepping out of the Floo. I was awake when he came home this morning." 

"Good thing, those Auror grade silencing spells. I didn't hear a thing. I didn't see a thing until I came out of my room." 

"I'm sorry you saw that. It's not like that kept us from rowing just now." 

"It's fine. I got a glass of water from the loo." 

"I know I've been a swot during all this," Hermione started, "but I want this guy as bad as you. But choosing to break the laws that have been passed is the road to corruption." 

"I know. Unfortunately the book can't help right now, at least on this case." 

"Ron said you made him promise to do his job." 

"And I'm holding him to it. But he's not point on this mission- I am." 

"You are? Damn." Hermione shuddered. "Does Ginny know?" 

"I've not talked with her. I've not had time to send anyone to South America to tell her." 

"She's going to be mad." 

"I know but I'm busy on this case. She'll just have to be mad." 

"It seems like a theme going around here," Hermione said under her breath. 

A loud crack erupted in the department. All heads turned towards the noise. Wands were whipped out and pointed at the noise. Everyone who looked saw a wizened elf standing in the middle of the spacious offices.

"Master Harry, Kreacher has returned and has information."


	11. The Rings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kreacher returns and plans are being made...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** So Jo turned 50 and Harry 35 yesterday and since I’m neither of those ages, I know I’m not her. But the owl with my invite to her party never showed so I’m boggled at not attending the party. - _DG_

* * *

"Master Harry, Kreacher has returned with information." 

Wands dropped and were replaced in pockets and holsters. Those not connected to the case went back to work on their own tasks. Only Ron, Harry, and Hermione were rapt with attention. 

"Kreacher, are you well?" 

"Yes, Mistress Hermione. Kreacher is well. Kreacher is unharmed." 

Hermione checked him over to see that his wrapped ears and hands were injury free. "Did the kidnapper attempt to harm you, or force you to harm yourself?" 

"Yes, Mistress Hermione. Master Harry was wise to say that Kreacher couldn't hurt himself. Kreacher knows the kidnapper. Kreacher understands why Master Harry told him to be careful before entering the noble house of Lestrange. Kreacher would have been obliged to iron his hands or smash his ears if Masters Harry and Ron didn't care for Kreacher's safety." 

"Blimey! It looks like you really hurt yourself." Ron looked at him and saw the bandages on his hands and around his head. "Good wrapping there. It looks like you burned your ears." 

"Kreacher obeyed Master Harry instead of Master Lestrange. Kreacher made noise, to act like Kreacher was punishing himself. Kreacher made noise but took meals to Madame Molly." 

"Mum!" Ron froze. "Did you see her? How is she?" 

Kreacher rubbed his wrapped hands. "Kreacher doesn't know, Master Ron. Kreacher took her meals but she wouldn't eat. Kreacher took her tea and she would not drink. Kreacher asked Madame Molly how she was but refused to talk." 

"How did she look?" Hermione waited with bated breath. 

"Kreacher saw Madame Molly. Her face and neck were different colors." 

Hermione knelt down to Kreacher. "Different colors? You mean like red and yellow." 

"Purple and brown and yellow and red, Mistress Hermione." 

Hermione looked at the other two. Ron balled up his fist. "Did you see the sod hurt her?" 

Kreacher's ears quivered. "Kreacher doesn't want to admit what he saw in the Noble House of Lestrange. Master Harry might tell him to iron his feet." 

"Bollocks," Ron growled. He stalked away for a minute. 

"Kreacher heard Master Lestrange speaking to Madame Molly." 

"What did he say?" 

"If Kreacher answers, Master Harry will be angry." 

"Kreacher," Harry knelt down next to Hermione. "We aren't angry with you, at all. You've done a fantastic job considering the circumstances." Harry looked sternly at Hermione. "But we need to know. Madame Molly's life is in danger and we need to know what was said or wasn't said." 

"Yes, sir. Kreacher saw Master Lestrange talking to Madame Molly. Master Lestrange said, ' _You're a Pureblood traitor, little Molly. You're nothing but a breeding sow_.' Kreacher cleared his throat. ' _I don't want you. I want that traitor of a husband to settle his damn debt._ '"

Ron stepped back to the gathering when Arthur was mentioned. "What does that mean?" 

"We'll ask Kingsley when we see him." Harry replied. 

"Anything else, Kreacher?" Hermione interjected. 

"Kreacher witnessed Madame Molly beg Master Lestrange." 

The men stood silently while waiting on Kreacher to elaborate. He sat still, his ears quivering. 

"Kreacher," Hermione sat in front of the wizened elf, "please tell us what you heard." 

"Master Ron will be most angry if Kreacher repeats himself." 

Hermione looked at Ron's emotionally compromised face. "He's not mad at you, Kreacher. He's mad at the person who has his Mum. You're a tremendous help right now but we need to know what was said or done to Madame Molly." 

"Yes, Mistress Hermione. Madame Molly said, ' _Please don't kill him_.' That was all she said." 

"And what did Lestrange say?" 

The elf croaked, "' _This isn't about you, witch. This is about a blood debt, one he will pay._ '"

"Did Madame Molly say anything else?" Hermione asked. 

"Kreacher heard her mutter one more thing, Mistress Hermione." 

"What did she say?" 

Kreacher wrung his hands in consternation. "If Kreacher repeats what he heard, Master Harry will be angry." 

"Kreacher," Hermione spoke quietly, "No one here is going to hurt you, Kreacher. They asked you to go in there and it would be wrong for them to be angry at what you witnessed. Isn't that right?" She glared knives at both of her best friends. "So please tell us what you saw, so we can start working to bring her home safe and sound." 

"Kreacher, what did Madame Molly say?" Harry asked quietly. 

"Kreacher heard Madame Molly say, ' _If you hurt him, I will kill you._ '" Kreacher wrung his hands and refused to look at Harry. "Something bad happened, didn't it?" "It did, Mistress Hermione. Kreacher saw Master Lestrange strike Madame Molly across the face. Master Lestrange said, ' _You'll try, witch._ ' Master Lestrange pointed his wand at Madame Molly. Master Lestrange left Madame Molly silent, crying in her room." 

"Did you help, Kreacher?" 

"Kreacher tried, Master Harry. Kreacher offered Madame Molly tea and toast but Madame Molly was crying too hard to hear. Kreacher was forced to leave Madame Molly when Master Lestrange summoned Kreacher." 

"The bastard hit Mum." Ron's hands were balled into white fists. "I'm going to strangle that fucker with my bare hands." 

"You'll do no such thing, Ron Weasley." Hermione blew out a deep breath. "We can't get in there just yet, can we Harry?" 

"I don't give a shite. He hurt Mum." 

"I know, but we're rescuing her according to the plan." Harry gave his best mate a stern look. "You promised me." 

Ron ignored Harry's question. "I hope the asshole raises his wand against me." 

"No, you don't. We will not lose you," Harry's face softened for a moment. "And neither will Hermione." 

Ron snorted. "Fine. You're right. Hermione's right. Everyone on this damn case but me is right. But sod all if I get a chance." Ron stormed out of the department again. 

"Kreacher, we will need your assistance further. We need to rescue Madame Molly." 

"Kreacher can bring her out of the house but she is cursed. If Kreacher brings her here, she dies, painfully. Kreacher heard Master Lestrange say that." 

"Shite." 

Hermione spoke over Harry, "We're going to need more help, I reckon." 

Ron walked back in the doors, and the steam was almost rising off his face and ears. 

Harry looked at his elf. "Kreacher, stay here. I'm going to get more help." Ron stalked up to the desk and plopped into a very hard chair. 

"You two stay. I'll go get the Director. He needs to be informed." 

Hermione departed for Director Robard's office while Ron and Harry peppered Kreacher with questions regarding the house and Master Lestrange. She knocked on his closed door before a gruff Enter echoed through the door. 

"What the hell is going on now, Granger? I thought I told you that you were relieved from this case." 

"And Kreacher has returned with news that you won't want to hear, sir." 

"Where's Potter and Weasley?" 

"They're debriefing Kreacher now, sir." 

The Director pulled a sheet of parchment and scribbled a hasty note on it before putting his wand to the paper and watching it soar towards his fireplace, disappearing in the flames. "Come on then. You too Weasley." 

"Oh, hello Charlie. I didn't know you were helping." Director Robards stood there waiting on them. 

"Yeah. They needed someone who could wrestle a dragon on this mission and I was the only one available. I came to talk with the Director before going back to Dad 'til it's time for me to help." 

"How is he? And why were you brought in? No one's mentioned a rogue dragon on this case." 

"Dad's hanging in there. Fleur won't let him out of the house but that's a good thing. So instead he's playing with Victorie and little Teddy when Andromeda brings him by." Charlie chuckled. "And it seems my dear brother said I could be useful for getting Mum out of there." 

Hermione stood quietly for a second. "I'm boggled since you're not an Auror either." She gave the director a dirty look. 

"Ron thought I could be useful. Director Robards explained that they think she's probably cursed somehow, and they can't risk magic on her to get her out of the house. Robards refuses to take that chance, her getting affected by the dark magic that's probably on her. So, you need a bloke with a strong back to carry her out, if need be. Aurors are known for their wits, courage, and determination, but not necessarily their strong backs." 

"They're considering using actual brute strength to get Mum out of the house?" 

"They're operating on the presumption that Mum is magically hurt. So they asked me. My buggered up task is getting her out of the house in one piece. At least that's Ron's idea on it. I'd say more but I think the Director would have my bits." Director Robards nodded. 

Hermione worried her lip in consideration. "This whole case has shredded the blasted book, hasn't it?" 

"Now you see our daily problems, Granger. It's a one in a hundred case where it's textbook and by procedure." The Director flicked his wand at the fire and accio'd a small note from the air. He read it before incinerating it with his wand. "We teach the apprentice Aurors that the book is only the guideline of our work, not our instruction manual. This is why the procedure manual is taught to the apprentices, tested on it, and then never cracked again. Almost all are cocked up somehow." 

Director Robards left Hermione and Charlie standing in the middle of the department. They followed over to Ron and Harry, still sitting with Kreacher at their desks. 

"Charlie, you're here. I came by this morning but Fleur said you'd gone out." Ron looked shocked. "I didn't think anyone would take that suggestion seriously." 

"The Director firecalled me this morning and asked I come in. He thought it was a brilliant idea, just like I do." Charlie smiled at Ron. 

"I was going to do it," he muttered under his breath. "Hermione's gonna take my bollocks for involving you too." 

Charlie chuckled. "Let me repeat the director: You're needed elsewhere on the mission. We can't risk you getting hurt hefting Mum out of there." 

"Shite. This whole mission is fucked up." 

"We can talk about that later, Weasley." Director Robards turned towards Harry and Kreacher. "Report, Potter." 

"Kreacher reports that Lestrange has put a curse on Molly. If she's taken through the wards without being released, she'll die a painful death. He said it's something about old family magic and all that rot." 

"Kreacher heard Master Lestrange say it. Master Lestrange said Madame Molly won't leave alive unless he gets what he wants." 

"So he wants Arthur. Nothing else will suffice." Robards pulled parchment and a quill to him, writing another memo to send off. "Weasley, it looks like the original part of your plan will be required. 

"Fuck."

"Potter's still on point for the rescue but we'll use your ideas for your brothers too." 

"Shite. But why are we waiting?" 

"I requested the Minister as well as an archivist from the Department of Mysteries, who specializes in arcane blood magic. We need her knowledge and the Minister's approval." Director Robards saw the diminutive elf sitting on the edge of the desk, drinking tea and eating a scone. "You've returned," Robards said gruffly. "Glad you're back." 

"Kreacher appreciates sentiment from old Auror." 

"What can you tell us? We're running out of time." 

"Kreacher can pass the nasty wards without problem, sir. Kreacher can take wizards and witches into and out of the property. Kreacher won't take Madame Molly out of the wards." 

"You said Lestrange said she's cursed." 

"Kreacher repeated that, sir. Kreacher heard Master Lestrange say he cursed Madame Molly, that if she passed the wards without him releasing her binding, she'd die." 

"Did he say what spell was used?" 

"Kreacher did not hear that information. Kreacher only knows it's old Pureblood magic." 

"Once the archivist arrives, we'll ask her. We're going to need a Healer, a specialist in Dark Magic Injuries, for the mission, and another at St. Mungo's when we bring her in." 

"I might be able to help, Director. I saw a spell in the book I was looking in and think it might be the one he might have used." Hermione picked up the book and started flipping the pages faster than thought possible. 

"Well, Granger, don't sit there looking like you're preparing for a revision. Speak up." 

"Well, sir, from what I've previously read, Pureblood marriages from the turn of the last century mandated an additional requirement. Family traditions expected the bride would be magically bound to her husband, as a guarantee of fidelity to him. Unlike the bride, he was under no such constraints, from what I've read on the matter." 

"That's unfortunately correct, Hermione." All heads turned to see Kingsley Shacklebolt walking into the department, trailed by Percy walking swiftly behind him. "Robards sent an urgent memo, saying he needed me down here. So did I hear that right, that the sod put a second marriage binding on Molly when he kidnapped her?" 

"Kreacher doesn't know for certain. Kreacher heard Master Lestrange say if Madame Molly tried to escape through the wards, she'd die a painful death." 

"That's no guarantee that he cursed her." Ron spoke up. "Lestrange could be lying." 

"I disagree. I think he did. It's easier to control a woman with a binding than throwing them into a magically sealed dungeon and having to keep watch on them constantly. A binding would confine her easier than anything else, especially under a threat of death." 

Robards stood quietly for a second. "Your theory makes better sense. A binding would keep her inside the property lines without having to keep an eye on her. Take away her wand and she'd be stuck, especially if he taunted her about property lines. Take away her wand and she'd be stuck, especially if he taunted her about property lines. If he silenced her too, she'd be a prisoner wherever he confined her. A comfortable prison cell, if you will." 

Robards looked at the elf. "When did you witness this confrontation?" 

"Yesterday, sir, around 4. Master Lestrange demanded potions to consume and to iron my hands for being tardy on bringing them to him. Master Lestrange went to see Madame Molly and Kreacher followed with tea and toast." 

"So that was about 30 hours after kidnapping her. Hmmm," Kingsley stood quietly for a second. "Did you check on Molly before leaving? Was she quiet or did she talk to you?" 

"Madame Molly was quiet and stayed in her room the entire time Kreacher was there. Other elves refused to see her. She refused meals and tea that Kreacher made for her. She refused to speak to Kreacher when he asked if she needed anything. Kreacher doesn't know why." 

"Sounds like the binding was taking effect," Kingsley spoke first. 

"You wanted to see me, Sir?" The gathering turned to the old witch with a plethora of quills tucked into her bun. "Esmerelda Muggeridge, sir. I'm the Director for the Department of Mysteries and chief archivist for the Ministry." 

Kingsley stepped up to the stern Ministry librarian. She looked nothing like Minerva McGonagall, for the pince-nez on her hooded eyes, her long hooked nose, and the scowl on her face. 

"Auror Potter's free elf performed work for us, gathering information regarding a kidnapping. Based on observations, the kidnap victim appears to have been cursed. From the kidnapper's statements, and from our own hypothesis, he put an archaic Pureblood marriage binding on her. Unfortunately, she accepted one from another wizard over 30 years prior, even if the additional binding was never woven onto her consented marriage bond." 

Madame Muggeridge sniffed. "Oh this would be dreadful, if he used a particular spell." 

"Would you elaborate?" Kingsley retorted. 

"Well, some members of Pureblood society required a bride's marriage vows include a vow of fidelity to her husband. Once married, she was bound, financially and magically, to provide an heir within two years of the binding. The binding ensured that she wouldn't refuse his advances, like women do nowadays. That particular binding would weaken once pregnant until she gave birth to a child. Once delivered, the husband would receive a second dowry from the bride's family. That's how a new family got established, financially. This binding would hold, even in the event of his demise, if she hadn't been impregnated. It was a lifelong vow of fidelity, if you will." The archivist adjusted the reading lenses on her abnormally long nose. "That is how, at least before the turn of this last century, Pureblood families had children. It wasn't out of some silly romantic notion of love, but duty, obligation to the family, and magical bonds. If a tart expected romantic notions of love, she was bitterly disappointed." 

Harry frowned but Hermione spoke up first. "How did the women benefit from agreeing to this arrangement?" 

"Agreement? Dear child, you've been listening to too many feminist philosophers of the previous century. You presume she had equal status to a man in a Pureblood family. There was no agreement on the woman's part, not if she was a child of a Pureblood family. She did as she was told, child." She pushed the glasses back up her nose. "Her obligation was to her family, by providing heirs. Negotiations were made between the bride's grandmother, or even her great-grandmother, with the groom's grandmother. This could happen anytime, from the time the child was born until the day of her wedding. It was strictly an arranged marriage, for the benefit of both families. They both wanted heirs, preferably sons, but would take daughters. Mine was arranged when I was 10. He was twenty and a man of high standing. I gave him three sons. But then you probably wouldn't understand the affairs of Purebloods." 

Hermione ignored the jab. "But how could a woman have no say so in such affairs?" 

"Are you that daft, Miss – "

"Mrs. Hermione Weasley - Granger, ma'am." Hermione stood up a touch taller and saw Ron smirk. "A Pureblood married me and the only negotiation for my hand in marriage was my future husband asking for my approval. He neither requested nor needed fidelity bonds for our marriage." 

"You're an ignorant Muggleborn, obviously." She sniffed haughtily. "His family tossed away their heritage by ignoring tradition, allowing him to marry without the bonds. Or maybe he's not a proper Pureblood husband, nothing more than a cuckold, in word and deed. They could have required these particular clauses in the binding for the marriage to take place and he could not refuse, not unless he wanted to be disowned financially and relegated to living a hard-scrabbled existence." 

Ron snorted at the haughty witch's ignorance. 

"Maybe he depends on your wages to keep a roof over your head. Or he respects you as an equal, rather than a spouse." 

Hermione scowled but Kingsley spoke across her first. 

"Get to the point, witch. Will a second marriage binding laid on her, even after the first one was applied thirty plus years prior, harm her?" 

"It depends on what he wants. Two marriage bonds laid on a woman would cause conflict in the magic bestowed upon her. If he put a binding on her, to keep her docile like a piece of property, she might be addled in the head for a spell after the bond is released. But if he forces physical contact, even if it's a simple touch of skin, for pleasure purposes, then it might drive her completely insane. Two marriage bonds set upon one woman would be equal to a Dementor's kiss and the best healers in the world wouldn't be able to repair the magical disaster that would result. But if that's not the case, given sufficient opportunity by a capable healer, she could recover in a week or so." The archivist flipped through her book. "But I'm honestly taking educated guesses since the information the book doesn't answer the question, since it's been so long since the question was broached. The limits of my arcane knowledge are far and wide," Muggeridge sighed, "but this is beyond my expertise. I know of no one alive who would know." 

"That won't be a problem. He probably put the binding on her for keeping her quiet and docile. He's not interested in her for physical relations." Kingsley looked to Gawain for reference and saw the older man nodding. 

"How would you know, sir?" Ron asked. 

"I'm an Auror and know things, Weasley. But if you are being completely nosey, the Lestrange men prefers men's company to women, not put too fine a point on it. The Aurors have known their peccadilloes and perversions for years." 

"Really? Wow. Never guessed." Harry chimed in. 

"You've never talked with Andromeda, have you?" 

Harry shuffled his feet. "No, sir. She doesn't talk about that part of her life, at least with me. When I come visit, it's about Teddy, or Ted, or Tonks or even Remus." 

"Might be your age," Kingsley said under his breath. "She talks to the rest of us, including Molly." 

"Oh," a few voices spoke up. 

"But back to our problem. Kreacher, do you know what spell Lestrange used?" 

"Kreacher doesn't know, sir. Kreacher knows she is cursed with death if she tries to leave without permission." 

"Madame Archivist, do you have some ideas to which spell she would be under?" 

The witch opened her book and scanned the contents, muttering to herself. "I know of half a dozen right off the top of my head, but he could have used any number of spells, or combinations, depending on what he was trying to accomplish. A specialist trained Healer would need a few days to decipher and diagnose which one or ones she was cursed with." 

"We don't' have a few days, Madame Muggeridge. We have two hours, if we're fortunate." 

Madame Muggeridge looked up from her tome. "Even with my scope of knowledge, it would take a miracle to know which one he used, given the short span, sir. If he used more than one, you'd have better luck facing a dragon – wandless." 

"I hate cocked up cases." Director Robards stood looking at his gathering. He looked at Kingsley and saw the Minister shrug slightly. 

"It looks like we're going with our alternate plans. Weasley, plan on returning here by midnight. Granger, stay here with us a moment. The rest of everyone, adjourn to conference room four. We'll need parchment for sketching the plans of the house. Kreacher, we're going to ask you plenty of questions, about the house and Molly. We have a plan to get her out of the house without harming her but we need fine tuning. Now move like you've got a purpose." 

"The plan has my approval. Keep me informed, Director." Percy shrugged towards Hermione and Ron before they left. The Aurors departed, leaving Director Robards with Madame Muggeridge and Hermione. 

"Since time is of the essence, would you work with Granger and pick out the dozen spells you think would possibly be applicable in this situation. I need to send for the Department Healer for the information as well." 

"Why are you so focused on this one kidnapping case? She's probably dead already." 

Before Director Robards could reply, Hermione stepped in front of Madame Muggeridge, nose to nose, with her finger pointed under her chin. The archivist flinched, thinking that the finger was a wand. "Madame Muggeridge," she spoke coldly, barely above a whisper, "that is my mother in law who has been kidnapped, and whose life you callously disregard as being worthy. She's a Pureblood, married to a Pureblood, and whose family ancestry is included in the Sacred 28, which you probably have multiple copies of in your home library." Hermione's hair seemed to frazzle further under her barely restrained fury at the pompous witch standing before her. "Her heritage is insignificant compared to the fact that she's a person and is a victim in this. So I insist that you help us deal with the situation, to the best of your abilities. Insult me all you want but I won't have you disparage her or my husband. Understand? There's been enough bloodshed the last few years to last through my eventual grandchildren's lifetime." 

"Granger, that's enough," Robards barked at her. 

"No, it's not. I'm sick of the attitude that since she was kidnapped, she's as good as dead, and if not, then she probably wishes she was. Sod it, Director, and sod that viewpoint." Hermione turned back to the older witch, who had taken a step back. "I'm disgusted with the mindset in this bloody Ministry that only esteemed Purebloods are worth value to this society. I'm sick that everyone has this _malaise_ that anything bad happens to anyone 'cept a Pureblood with acceptable social contacts, then write them off, offer condolences, and then step away for tea and crumpets." She took a deep sniff and stared at the cowering witch in front of her. "Until people, including you, value all life, not just ones you deem worthy, we will have this problem and nothing will change for the better." 

"Would you still care if it was someone you're not related to, someone who was of better standing, like the Malfoy's?" The haughty witch sniffed at Hermione. 

"If the case and situation involved using House elves to do Auror jobs, or House elves that had been abused, I would do my job the same way I'm doing it now – demanding the best from everyone around me. Unlike you, Madame Archivist, I think everyone is important and that we need to do our job until we know the person is dead – and only then turn the case from a rescue to a recovery, and bring the person responsible for justice." 

"Granger, you've harangued the Archivist long enough. Mrs. Muggeridge, please hand over the materials to Granger. I will vouch for their return to you as soon as this case is completed." 

The archivist thrust her book at the Director and turned on her heel. They heard her muttered epithets as she walked away. 

"Granger, you have to quit pissing off everyone who is helping on this case." 

"She was rude and presumptuous, and that's uncalled for, not when we know that Molly is still alive." 

"But you don't have to be obstinate to everyone who helps." 

Hermione crossed her arms in response. 

"Now, if you're going to help, read this book. You've got 10 hours. I want us ready to go into the residence at 2am." 

"Do you have a plan?" 

"We do. Weasley came up with the bulk of it." 

Hermione smiled, the first one the Director saw from Hermione. "Potter's on the case too, along with the others. They have the hard work, infiltrating the house and arresting Lestrange. But you need to find us the possible spell he used, the one that can help the Healer once we get Molly free from the residence. But if you don't find a close to possible spell, we have to find a way to get the git to release her. He's not going to willingly let her go, I reckon, not without forcing the issue." 

Hermione opened the cover of the book and bit her lip. "Damn it," she muttered under her breath. 

"What's wrong, Granger?" 

"I'm glad I'm fluent in Ancient Runes, since the entire book is written in it." 

"Wish you'd been pleasant to the Archivist?" the Director cheeked. 

She looked up scowling. "I'll have you the answer by the deadline, sir." She stalked off at the cheek by the Director. 

Director Robards regarded the prodigious witch walking away. "I know you will. I didn't fall off the turnip cart this morning." 

* * *

The men settled into the conference room, with Kreacher at the center of the gathering. Harry tended the refreshments for Kreacher, giving him a pasty along with tea. "Will this suffice until you get a real meal, or do you want me to get you something else?" 

"Master Harry is too kind to Kreacher. Kreacher is content with tea and a pasty." 

Another man slipped into the room, dressed in lime green robes, right before Hermione and Director Robards entered. "My apologies. I'm Phillip Smalls-Fawcett, Specialist Healer on duty. I came as soon as I could." 

"Now that everyone is here, let's start the debriefing. Kreacher, what can you tell us regarding the Kidnapper?" 

"Kreacher knows Master Lestrange too well. Kreacher remembers. Kreacher isn't fond of him at all." His ears twitched. "Master Lestrange is a cruel Wizard." 

"Kreacher, I know that this is difficult, but we need to know more. What is his schedule? Who prepares his meals? Drink Firewhiskey? Anything we can use to exploit the situation and get Molly safely out of there." 

"Master Lestrange's elves make his meals. Master Lestrange didn't ask for Firewhiskey while Kreacher was there. Master Lestrange did tell Kreacher to fetch potion bottles. Every 3 hours, he demanded more potions." 

Everyone except Hermione was taking feverish notes. Her nose was buried deep in the runes tome that discussed marriage bonds. 

"Do you recall what potions Lestrange was consuming every three hours?" The Healer asked. 

"Master Lestrange demanded a bottle of pain potion and a bottle of pepper up potion. Kreacher saw dozens of bottles in the loo downstairs. Kreacher never fetched vials, sir." 

The Healer sat up tall in his chair and scribbled notes on his own parchment. "Did he drink the entire bottle? Did he ingest both bottles at the same time?" 

Kreacher looked to Harry for askance before turning back to the Healer. "Yes, Healer. Kreacher saw him drink the entire bottle of pain potion and the entire bottle of pepper up potion." 

"Do you remember how many he took, of the Pepper up Potion?" 

"He requested four bottles from Kreacher during Kreacher's time at the House of Lestrange." 

"How many pain potions, Kreacher?" 

"Kreacher brought Master Lestrange six bottles. Master Harry, Kreacher doesn't understand. Has Kreacher performed in error?" 

"It's OK Kreacher. I'm boggled too." 

"So let me get this straight," The Healer checked his notes, "You said he ingested a bottle of pain potion roughly every three hours and a pepper up potion every six?" 

"Kreacher informed the deaf Healer. Kreacher is unaccustomed to repeating himself." Ron laughed under his breath. 

The Healer ignored Kreacher's snide comment. "He's way over the dosing protocols." 

"Kreacher only reports what he sees, sir. Wizards do many things house elves don't understand." 

"What's so strange about that?" Harry asked. 

"I'm surprised he's upright. That much pain potion is four times the maximum dose a day. He'd have to ingest that much on a daily basis for years to build that much tolerance, for pain potions and for pepper up potions. But it also means that if he misses a dose, that he could be wildly unpredictable when it comes to his behavior." 

"So you're saying," Hermione carefully picked her words out, lest she annoy Ron once again, "we can't know for certain how he'd act because he's under the influence constantly? He's, as my parents would reference, a high functioning addict." 

"I dunno how functional he is considering he kidnapped someone. I'm hard pressed to give any concrete answers. Even if we had him in a secured ward at St. Mungo's, he'd probably go mad within minutes if he didn't get his dose. Weaning him off that amount would take months, probably." 

"Healer," Auror Williamson spoke up, "what are the side effects of pain potion addiction?" 

"Paranoia, insomnia, hallucinations, and if he doesn't get his dose on schedule, he goes into DT withdrawls. That's usually fatal when the drug is pain potions, since most can't get to St. Mungo's fast enough." 

"He karks it in our custody, there's gonna be hell to pay." 

All heads nodded in understanding. 

"He could be hyper-aggressive too, depending on his mix. I'd say that this is as risky as you've come across – dangerous and unpredictable." 

"We're Aurors and trained for it. We'll manage." Auror Smythe chimed in. 

"Sounds like a normal day at the office, from how Ron talks about it." 

"How far have you gotten on the book, Granger? Do you have anything for the Healer yet?" 

"I've got three picked out so far, and I might have a fourth. But we won't know for certain if these are the right ones until the Healer makes an assessment. Otherwise, all this is academic." 

"It's better than nothing, Granger." 

"Yes, sir." She turned her attention back to the book. 

"Weasley, does this information complicate your planning?" 

Ron scratched his quill across the parchment in front of him. "This buggers up most of it, that's for sure. It'll be like when I play chess with Harry." 

"Oy! I resent that." 

"It's true, though. Only Bill can challenge me now. I don't pay attention when I'm playing you." 

"Sod off, wanker." 

"If you boys are done measuring your wands, you have a rescue mission to finish planning." Auror Williamson spoke up. 

"Damn right," Director Robards growled. "Kreacher, we need your assistance. Will you help us?" 

"He can't go back in. It's a violation of the laws that are written." Hermione didn't look up from her book. 

"Hermione," Ron stared across the table with his hands turning pale from gripping the edges, "I don't give a fuck what you think at this point. He's offered to help and by Merlin and his y-fronts, we're going to use his help." Ron gripped the table harder. "This is Mum's life at stake and if there were any other sodding way to get past those wards, I'd do it in a heartbeat." 

"And I'm already in hot water with you, Granger, about this whole case. If I'm buggered, I might as well go for the whole hippogriff." 

"It's still wrong and potentially dangerous and I won't stand here being quiet over the whole bloody thing. I'm required to protest." 

Ron stood up from his chair. "This isn't a bloody raid for illegal house elves, Hermione. This is an Auror rescue mission and it's dangerous. The Minister authorized it, but the Director and the others support the plans we have going in." Ron pointed his wand at the sketched plans of the property on the table between them. "If you don't have anything to add to this, except to gripe at me about why we need to continue to use Kreacher, I suggest you shut it." 

"Weasley," Robards pointed his oft-broken hand at him, "quit antagonizing her. The Minister supports the department and the plan and we're not deviating from it, regardless of Granger's sincere objections. She's got a point and I respect it but we have a rescue to plan and I know her objections." The Director looked at Hermione and smiled. "Your objections are noted and over-ridden. 

"Now, Kreacher, we need to know the layout of the house." 

"Master Lestrange's house is dangerous. Aurors going into the residence without permission will be killed." 

"What do you mean, Kreacher?" Auror Jones spoke up. "You're taking us through the wards."

"Kreacher speaks of the house itself. The Noble House of Lestrange is riddled with traps. Kreacher tried but could not disarm all of them. It is Wizard Magic, and unknown to elves." 

"Fuck," Ron groaned.


	12. Repeat after Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kreacher returns with important information and the Aurors start planning since time is running short.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** Thanks again for reads and kudos. It's all appreciated. Also, if you want, there is an outtake over in the Drabble series – Ch. 97. I said this story wouldn't have smut included – but I never said that things weren't happening off-page.  
> Also, coming clean here: I’m still not Jo. But I do like to think I would be as cheeky and shirty with people who use the First Amendment like a suit of armour to annoy the rest of us. - _DG_

* * *

"Kreacher speaks of the house itself. The Noble House of Lestrange is riddled with traps. Kreacher tried but could not disarm all of them. It is Wizard Magic, and unknown to elves."

"Fuck," Ron groaned. 

"It's not the first time, gentlemen." Auror Hemera Jones gave the Director a side-wise look. "And we've dealt with complications before on a rescue. We will adapt and overcome, so let's get to it." 

"Speaking of elves, how many work there, Kreacher?" 

"Six, sir." Kreacher looked at Director Robards before looking at Harry. "Will Elves be hurt when Aurors go in?" 

The Aurors looked around at one another. They shared chagrined faces and shrugs of ignorance. "We hadn't considered they would be in the way once we go in to rescue her." 

"Maybe we could have Harry get them out before we start the raid." Ron looked around the room but kept a careful watch on Hermione. Her face smiled softly at him. "The whole point is to rescue Mum and apprehend Lestrange. We don't want or expect fatalities." 

"But how can we?" Hermione sat still. "I mean, how will the Aurors guarantee their safety, in light of the situation and circumstances?" 

An assistant came in, bringing a brown paper sack. The Director handed it over to Kreacher. "You need a hearty meal. You earned it, so enjoy it." 

Kreacher took the proffered sack and opened it. "Kreacher can't accept a meal from Auror Robards." 

"Kreacher, you were there almost 24 hours. I'd insist the same thing for any Auror." 

"Yes, sir." Kreacher walked to the space in front of Harry. 

"Wait, let me get you a seat." Hermione pulled her wand and transformed a wood quill set into a chair and small table. "Here you are." 

"Mistress Hermione is too kind. Kreacher has never dined with Wizards before." 

"You have now, so tuck in." Ron grinned at Kreacher before looking at Hermione and smiling. 

Kreacher pulled the meal out of the sack and found Hannah's Fish and Chips. He took a bite of battered fish and smiled. "Wizard fish and chips are almost as good as Kreacher's." 

"Exactly," Ron added. "It'll do in a pinch, right?" 

Kreacher started eating and the Aurors, with his detailed information, quickly drew up the floor plans for the Lestrange residence. With his assistance, they were able to map every piece of furniture, cabinet, door, floor runner, and cupboard – all with Kreacher standing in the middle of the table, chip in his hand. Between bites of fish, he documented every moment of the time he spent inside the cottage. 

"What if we spring our trap here?" 

"Master Ron?" Kreacher croaked. 

"I'm listening," Ron replied back while running the scenarios once again with the other Aurors. 

"That's a butler's pantry. Only elves fit in there. Wizard won't fit in there, much less four wizards." 

"Kreacher's right. He's in his own home, so we're depending on his ignorance about the residence. I bet you that he's got more traps in there, ones he can pass, like the wards." Auror Jones looked at the men at the table. "Forget convention, gentlemen. We have to be adaptable and have a working plan for every bloody room in the cottage." 

Harry took a large gulp of cold tea and cringed. 

"And if we have to go wand to wand in one of those cupboards known as a bedroom, we're buggered." Ron added. 

"You're not going to be fighting in a bedroom, Ron." 

"It's possible, Hermione. There was this one time where Nigel was dueling in a scullery. Anything's possible." 

"And don't forget the time I was fighting with my back against a toilet at that pub in Dorchester." 

"See? Wandfights happen anywhere." 

"That settles it," Hermione deadpanned as she settled back into her chair and put her nose back into the runes book. 

"That's all you have to say?" 

"What else would you have me say?" She rolled her eyes while looking at her husband. "I have to finish reading so I can assist the Healer, should he need it." She turned another page past her bookmark and refused to look back at Ron. "It's not like I'm helping on the rescue, considering you're automatically negating everything I'm saying?" she grumped under her breath. 

"You are helping. You might have an idea we don't think of, or something that's too risky that needs to be pointed out." 

"The entire mission is too risky. But what do you care? Nothing else matters except getting Mum back, even at the risk of your entire team." 

"Damn right and you know it," Ron growled before pointing out a blind spot in one of the auxiliary rooms. 

"I tried helping, not that you're listening to a thing I've said," she pouted.

Ron put down his wand and looked at Hermione sitting on the other side of the table. "Kreacher agreed to help and your complaining won't help us rescue mum. So unless you can find a spell in that blasted runes book you're reading, one that can open the wards on the mission target, or the counter-curse for Mum's injuries, then it's not a help." 

Ron's eyes turned darker as Hermione stared at him. She watched his face turn pink before she nibbled her lip in consideration. "I'll keep reading, but I still don't like that he's involved." She waved her hand at the half-asleep elf sitting on the table. 

"Mistress Hermione," he spoke in a sleep deprived gravelly voice, "Kreacher's task is to take Master Harry inside the house. Kreacher isn't allowed to get hurt or otherwise help the Wizards with their task. Kreacher is to take Master Charlie into the house and help Madame Molly out of the house. Kreacher is to take Madame Molly through the wards, if need be. Kreacher is helping because elf magic can pass through corrupted wards without harm." 

The group watched him wobble while he was sitting. 

"Ready to sleep, Kreacher?" Harry asked. 

"Yes, Master Harry. Kreacher is very tired." 

Hermione pulled her vinewood wand and conjured a pallet of blankets. "That should be comfortable for you. I warmed them too." 

Kreacher settled into the blankets and was snoring almost immediately. 

"Should we move him," Hermione asked. "maybe to the corner where he can sleep comfortably?" 

"Nah, leave him there. He can sleep through anything." 

"It's 9pm. Let's go over what we know and have." Director Robards stared at the Aurors at the table. "You keep reading, Granger. That Healer will be back at Midnight and he's going to need solutions." 

"Yes, sir." 

"Now, we need to go over…" the Director droned on, with Auror Jones giving her tactical input. Over the next hour, the Aurors hashed out a working plan while Hermione studied. She kept an ear open and offered suggestions when called upon, or asked. 

"Granger, you're staying outside the wards. The curse breaker is staying outside, too. Kreacher's your concern but not inside the perimeter. It's unsafe for anyone not an Auror." 

Everyone went back to the plans on the table before them. 

"I can help you on this, Ron," She whispered. "Let me help you." 

"I don't want you anywhere near this madman, got it?" 

"I know that! You've lectured me for hours on this. You can't do your job, getting Mum out safely, if you're worried about me and my safety." 

"Damn right," he snorted. 

"Even though I'm a fair wand in a fight," she added. 

"I can't and won't take that risk, Hermione. I know you're more than capable, but I can't be distracted, not when lives are on the line." The tips of his ears turned red. 

"You're being a cad, you know. I'm not incompetent." 

"You're the most competent witch I know, but you're staying outside the wards. I can't protect you when I'm on this mission." Ron stopped talking with the other Aurors and their planning. "You're not an Auror and not trained like one. I rather have you think I'm a cad and keep you outside, safely away from this barmy bastard. But I'll be arsed if you try to help us inside those wards and you get hurt. I couldn't live with myself if that happened." 

Hermione sat quietly while Ron went back to planning with the team. 

"You really think you can pull this off, without someone being hurt?" 

"I'd rather it be me or another Auror if things go sideways. That's what they pay is the fat galleons for." Chuckles erupted from the other Aurors. "We're trained on shite going pear shaped. We're sorted." 

"I want to help." 

"You are. Get the Healer a list of possible spells he put on her and help Bill get those wards down once he's arrested and we have blood to unlock the property wards. I love you dearly but you're not helping us arrest him."

"You're being an ass, Ron. Let me help you. I can do more than just stand aside while you go in." 

"No, Hermione. I won't argue anymore. You're not part of the rescue team and you would get her. So quit arguing with me. Robards said you're not going in and I agree." 

Hermione gave everyone in the room a dirty look. "Seems all I'm doing here is holding you back, obviously. Why am I bothering?" 

Ron rolled his eyes in consternation. "Don't get shirty with me. You know what you are supposed to do that helps me, and Mum. This isn't about her, or us. All this," He waved his hand around the room, and the people working on the details of the rescue, "This is all to save her. Got it?" 

"Fine," she huffed. "I'm outside the wards, with Bill and the Director, waiting on the Aurors to arrest Lestrange. Once apprehended, Kreacher will first take the Director to the Medical tent, to oversee the rest of the mission there. Then he will return and bring me and Bill inside so we can receive Lestrange's blood so we can bring down the corrupted wards. After that, I'll go inside the medic tent and assist the Healer, if needed. Once Mum's cleared, Charlie and I will apparate with Mum and the Healer to St. Mungo's." She turned the page on her book. "I could have followed that plan my second year of school." 

"See, that does help me." 

She glared at Ron. 

"Don't be upset." 

She glared harder. "I know I can do more to help." 

"And you have. You have a list of possible spells the sod used on her. The healer can check them which helps Mum." 

Hermione put her face in her hands and rubbed it vigorously. "It's so much," she muttered. She looked at Ron, and Harry, and finally the sleeping elf on the table. "And Kreacher? What about him?" 

"Call him if you are concerned, but only when we give the clear. Got it?" 

"Alright." Hermione stood up from the table. "I'm going to get something to eat. I'll return shortly." 

"Granger's right. We've been at it for five hours. Take a half and come back and we'll run through our plans. Potter, get with the healer on your part of the Mission when he returns. You'll need antidotes for when you go in. I'll send over a list of what we might need." 

Hermione picked sleeping Kreacher up along with his warmed bedclothes she transformed and laid him in the corner, off the planning table. 

"Shhh, don't wake him." 

"I'm not," She silenced Harry with a look. She turned her enigmatic stare at Ron before stalking out, leaving everyone else mulling around. 

"Aren't you going out to talk with her?" Jasper cheeked. "Or do you need to borrow your bollocks overnight?" 

"Yeah, I think I will." Ron laughed. "Harry, grab a sack of pasties from upstairs, wouldya?" 

"Sure. Try not to yell too loud when you're rowing again." 

Ron stifled his laugh. "Yeah, sure. Will do." Ron left Harry looking over the plans for the hop. Director Robards stepped up next to him. Auror Jones stood on the other side of the table, regarding their schematics and plans. 

"I don't like it. There's too much that can go wrong on this mission. I hate sending you in without a team." 

"Weasley being the first backup is risky," Hemera spoke up. 

"I know, sir. But it makes the best sense, and the only way we can infiltrate the residence. But you said it yourself," He nodded at the stern witch across from him. "He's a barmy bastard and we're only guessing in anticipation." Harry rolled his head and neck. "But we're hampered by what we can accomplish with the laws in place. This plan, as fragile as it is, is the only way without breaking any more laws. That's why I'm going in first, then Ron." 

"You think he can keep his temper in check 'til we apprehend Lestrange?”

"He's promised me, so yeah." He regarded the witch across from him and saw her nod. "He won't break a promise to me." 

"You trust Weasley that much?" The director growled. "He's failed before." 

"Yeah, I reckon I do, with my life, Sir." 

* * *

A small memo flew into the room. It started tapping the Director in his ear. He grabbed it and scanned the enchanted parchment in his fingers. Seconds later, he pointed his wand at the memo and incinerated it in his fingers.

"Important information, sir?" Harry spoke up. 

"Message from the Minister, via his assistant: 'By Ministerial authority, the Floo connection to the Lestrange Manor residence is now closed, due to Auror request. Any transit to or from the residence in question will be arrested as an accessory to an on-going investigation.'" The Director looked up from the parchment before incinerating it too. "MLS guards will be on standby if there is any use of the Floo." 

"That's a help." 

A Dolphin Patronus landed in the conference room. "Director, Healer Fawcett-Smalls is waiting on you." It winked out. 

"Potter, bring in the Healer. We'll finalize the rescue plans when you return. Time's ticking." 

"Yes, sir." Harry disappeared. 

Ron sat quietly while Harry went to get the Healer. The mission was complicated, and that gave him the collywobbles. He tried everything possible to simplify, and streamline the mission and nothing seemed to be a right answer. Complicated missions easily failed, and this was extremely complex. Even with Kreacher's extensive assistance, and Hermione's brilliance, there were so many variables, of which one wrong decision would mean catastrophe. 

"I hate fucked up cases," he muttered. 

"Don't we all?" Nigel said quietly. "But that's why we're Aurors and not working at the Leaky." 

Jasper laughed too. "I could use a pint or three later this morning, once this mission is over. I miss the bird I'm seeing." 

"I might just rent a room for a few days, once this bloody mission is over." Nigel retorted. "Or even better, a fortnight off from this blasted place. Merlin knows my other half is missing me." 

"Peter's probably happy you're not making a mess at the flat." Jasper flung a chip across the table at Nigel. 

"Sod off, you wanker. Peter loves my snoring." 

"That's what Hermione says. She tells me she can't sleep unless I'm snoring in her ear." 

"She's got you whipped." Jasper whispered. 

"Maybe once this mission is over, maybe she'll let you have your bollocks back." Nigel cheeked too. 

"Yeah, that'd be nice," Ron said mindlessly like looking at the sleeping elf in the corner, tucked into a pallet of warmed blankets. 

Harry returned with Healer Smalls-Fawcett. Harry sat down and Ron leaned over, not to disturb the others. "Think we should wake him?" Ron asked. Kreacher snored louder. 

"No. We'll let him sleep 'til 1am." Harry spoke quietly. "He already knows what he has to do. He might be as old as Dumbledore was, but his mind is still very sharp. He won't fuck up what he's supposed to do." 

"And Hermione?" 

Hermione snored softly in the chair she brought in from the department. She transformed it slightly, adding arms and a few cushioning charms, and was snuggled into it, fast asleep. Ron's jacket served as her blanket and her purse as her pillow. 

"We'll wake her at 1pm. I know she can function on 2 hours of sleep. Besides, she has the hard parts – helping Bill and the Healer." 

"Potter, what's your part in this plan?" 

"Stand there and look pretty, sir." 

"Cut the cheeky shite, Potter. Mission hop time." 

"Yes, sir." 

"Let's go over it again, since Potter thinks being shirty will help on the mission." Director Robards gave the group a dirty look. 

Ron groaned first, followed by Harry. Nigel and Jasper took out their potion flasks and took a wee nip. "You git," they growled in unison before stowing them back in their jackets. 

"Healer, here's the list of potions we will possibly need for this mission, in addition to the standard ones in your kit." The healer took the list of parchment and then looked at the Director. 

"All this, in addition to the standard kit?" 

"I'm afraid so. Between Mrs. Weasley's unknown condition and the steps we're taking to infiltrate the residence, we need those particular potions, and they're currently in the stores at St. Mungo's, as possible remedies." 

"I'll need additional help carrying all of this in my kit." 

"We'll send Potter over with you to get them. That will give you time to discuss antidotes for his part of the mission." 

"Yes, sir. Very good." The healer tucked the potions list into his jacket. 

The Aurors finalized plans, including contingencies and possibilities, no matter how barmy. Cheering charms were applied liberally, to cut back on the petty bickering and stress of the up-coming mission. 

"Why the hell is this so bloody complicated? We go in, capture him, release her, and we take her to St. Mungo's. What's so bloody hard about that?" Jasper groused from his seat at the table. 

"Because that isn't how we do it, legally. The populace has to see that we're above corruption and outright assassination, much less brutal tactics. We're not Muggles who shoot to kill. We have laws we follow." 

Ron sat back in his chair and ran his hands across his hair. "But this whole plan is complicated. Why is it complicated? Everything goes to hell when it's a complicated plan." 

Williamson sat forward in his chair. "We could just send Kreacher in to get her, and the Hit wizards take him out. What's so wrong about brutal simplicity? If he died, she'd be freed, right?" 

"You sods aren't working for that incompetent buffoon Yaxley. He couldn't tell a statute from a wand if you paid him 50 galleons." Director Robards rubbed his face in frustration. "Because old Pureblood traditions were that, when a Pureblood was kidnapped for a blood debt, it they weren't properly compensated, the victim died when they strayed too far away from their kidnapper. Molly has to stay close enough until Lestrange releases her from his care. Killing her doesn't release her. Blood debt issues don't work that way." He scowled at Auror Jones, sitting at the other end of the table. "I'm not about to hand over my pension as well as my bollocks to the Minister for cocking up the mission because you sods want to be fast and dirty with the bloody laws on the books." 

"Can't we just capture him, _Imperio_ him, and get him to release her binding. Then, once he's incarcerated, he has an accident?" 

"You're out of line, Smythe, and you know it." Auror Jones snarled. "Make a similar suggestion and you're relieved of duty, pending a formal inquiry." 

"Sorry," he said contritely. "Just thinking of Mrs. Weasley." 

"We have to do this the right way. Using an Unforgiveable is illegal and immoral. We aren't going to be criminals, not like this sod. Besides, we don't know what spell or spells he used." 

"But we don't know that he put a binding on her. Kreacher could have mistaken, or it been boasting." Auror Smythe asked. 

"Don't be a git." Harry growled. 

"I'm not. I'm asking a serious question." Jasper asked. 

"Kreacher said so, repeating what Lestrange said. That's not being unsure." Harry yelled back. 

"That's my mum's life you're risking, risking on a bloody assumption." Ron barked back "You're not going to take a chance with my Mum's life!" 

"But you're asking this wanker to put a wand at my throat! Fuck you, Weasley. There's another way we can catch this guys and keep him in Azkaban, once and for all." 

Nigel spoke up. "What if he has a death wish and won't go back?" 

"That complicates things," Director Robards replied. 

"You think he'd force us to kill him?" Auror Jones asked. 

Director Robards face contorted, like he bit into a puking pastille. "It's possible. Wouldn't be the first time a criminal used us for a suicide." He regarded Hemera stoically and she nodded in response. 

"You think he'd kill us, given the chance?" Harry asked quietly. 

"Probably." Jasper spoke up. 

"Shite." 

A dolphin Patronus appeared in the room once more. "Sir, they're coming back." 

A knock sounded on the door. Director Robards nodded at his second before she got up to answer the door, wand in hand. She smiled for a moment before opening the door wider. "They're here," she said quietly. 

Charlie Weasley walked in, with Arthur Weasley behind him. 

A bong sounded from Director Robard's wrist. "All right. We're sorted as well as we can be." Director Robards looked at his battered watch. "Gentlemen, it's one. Potter, you know what to do. The Portkey leaves for Portsmouth at two. File your next of kin paperwork before we depart. 

"Dismissed." 

* * *

"Where the Devil is he? He knows we're leaving on the Portkey in fifteen bloody minutes? Potter, go get him!"

Harry dropped his rucksack on the floor of the conference room and stepped out into the private hallway. Down the hall were the debriefing rooms, Auror locker room, training rooms, and a women's bathroom. But there was no sign of Ron. 

Harry stuck his head inside the women's bathroom. There was no sign of him, thankfully. He didn't want a repeat of what he'd seen too many times – Ron coming out of a Ministry bathroom with Hermione following behind him. Harry was permanently scarred after seeing their humiliated yet smug faces so often. 

Harry checked the Auror locker room and found it empty too. Next was the training room and Ron wasn't in there, either. Then again, it wasn't like Ron would be practicing ten minutes before the Portkey departed. 

Finally he stuck his head in the far debriefing room. If they weren't leaving via Portkey on an Auror mission, he'd leave them alone. Instead Harry grunted, rather loudly considering the circumstances, and tried to keep his eyes averted. 

"Sorry mate but ten minutes to departure." 

Ron held Hermione close, letting her use his Auror jacket as a drip cloth. Her shoulders shook and her hair shuddered in his arms. He turned and gave Harry a look, wordlessly conversing with his best make in the current circumstances. 

Ron leaned over and spoke a few words to her, telling her that they had company. Harry didn't want to see the intimate moment between his best friends but time was ticking. He turned back towards them and caught a glimpse of Hermione from the corner of his eye and saw her wiping her face with a conjured handkerchief. 

"Harry, promise me you'll bring'em home." 

"My word, Hermione: we're not throwing you over the side." 

"Better not," she said. She turned back to Ron, lovingly regarding him. Intense looks replaced words between the couple. 

"You know what to do," Ron kissed her forehead. 

"Yeah, help Bill and the Healer." 

"And?" Ron asked quietly. 

"And whatever happens, don't come inside the perimeter." 

Ron stepped back and saw the tear tracks and her fierce pride, in him, on her face. "So proud of you," she told him while touching his lips. "Now go bring Mum home." 

"You heard the brilliant witch, Harry. Let's go bring Mum home." 

Ron turned and walked out of the room. Harry watched her until he had to run to catch up with his best mate. As soon as they were away from the doorway, she collapsed into the chair behind her, a puddle of fear, worry, and hiccupping sobs. 

"I thought I'd walk in on you two shagging." 

Ron flushed red but kept walking forward. He couldn't return to her side, not until he'd rescued Mum. "Nah, not this time mate. That was earlier." 

"Earlier? When did I miss that?" 

"'Bout four hours ago, Harry. Didn't you notice?" 

"'Course not. I recall I was in the canteen getting a sack of pasties and too many cups of tea. It took so long, I almost considered running to the Leaky to get them." 

"If you didn't notice then no one bothered to either." 

"I'm sure they knew. It's not like you don't have that reputation." 

"Reputation? Pshaw. They think I'm whipped. Only you know better." 

"Weasley, grab your gear and get your arse here. Seven minutes." 

"Grabbing my arse and getting my gear, sir." 

"Don't get shirty with me this morning, Weasley. We don't have time for silly arsed antics, not before a hop." 

"Yes sir," Ron said contritely. 

The men stood ready, with cloaks, rucks, and wands at the ready. Hermione walked into the room along with Charlie beside her. "Granger, good. Your Portkey leaves in fifteen minutes. You're meeting the Healer at the Portkey office along with the curse breaker. Take that Weasley with you and you'll travel over together. I will meet you at the rendezvous point after I give last minute instructions." 

"Charlie, if you let her get hurt, I'll feed you to a dragon." 

"Ron! I'm not incompetent." 

The men ignored her pleas. "If she gets hurt, I'd feed myself to a bloody dragon." 

The brothers nodded at one another before Charlie and Hermione left for the lifts. 

"She'll be fine. Bill's meeting them there and Charlie's there 'til everything has started. She's not unprotected, not with your brothers as well as the Director there." 

"I know but I hate lying to her about my part of the mission." 

"You had to. There was no choice. She'd have fought tooth and nail if she knew what your part was." 

"She's gonna take my bollocks if I live through this." 

"Small price to pay for getting Mum back, I reckon." 

"One minute!" Director Robards bellowed for his group. "Check your rucks and your wands, gentlemen." 

Ron leaned in close, to whisper. "Harry?" 

"Yeah?" 

"If anything happens, look after her, wouldya?" 

Harry stared at his best mate with a scowl. "Don't talk shite Ron. Nothing's gonna happen." 

"Look, I'd be barmy if I didn't say it. You know shite goes sideways sometimes, just like you make me promise about Ginny." 

"Yeah, I know. But we're coming back." 

"Smythe, get your arse on here!" 

All of the assigned Auror reached for the Portkey. Tension lined all of the present faces. Harry saw that Williamson was all business, while Smythe was smiling but it was far from happy. Ron looked green around the ears and the Director was snarling. Appleby was all business and Auror Jones was wearing her game face. 

"Follow the plan, gentlemen, and let's get this cocked up mission over." 

All of the Aurors assigned to the mission had a hand on their Portkey – a length of rope where everyone could hold on. It activated and everyone was yanked from the Ministry to the landing zone in Portsmouth. Each of the Aurors let go before the rope crashed into the mud next to the parkway. Only Smythe let go too late and landed with a thud, caking his trousers in algae filled mud. "Hate travelling this way." 

"Shut it, Smythe." The team went silent. "Third team is on site now, keeping watch. They've been on station since 8. They report no movement on the property, coming or going. The Floo network is closed to the house and has been since 11. Apparition has been locked down since you first came to the property. He's been content to wait and as far as we know, he's not tried to leave. But this also means we've been blind the last 12 hours. So, MLS is on stand-by if we need them. The other group is at the fall-back location. They won't come on site until Lestrange is captured. You know the plan and the protocols." 

Six heads nodded. 

"Potter, don't get killed." 

"No, sir!" 

The director watched the other six conceal themselves under disillusionment spells before they took off towards the insertion point. Robards went last, following the growing bootprints in the January sand. Wind blew across the shrub grass and mud along the lakefront, coating all of them in a cold mist. In the chilly nighttime, they were completely blind at what lay ahead, yet as ready as possible for their mission. 

"Report," Robards growled at the appointed meeting location. 

"No movement, sir. It's like watching a mirror. Rather boring, really." One lone Auror lit his wand to show he was there, under disillusionment. "No reports from the others regarding anyone trying to exit." 

"This is going to go pear shaped, isn't it?" Ron muttered under his breath. 

"Only if Potter fucks up his part of the plan." 

Harry ignored the quip and checked his rucksack one last time. "I'm ready as we can be, sir." 

"Go ahead, Potter." 

"Kreacher," Harry spoke and the elf popped in at his feet. 

"Good nap?" The elf nodded. 

"We're ready to start, but only if you're ready." 

"Kreacher is ready to help." The wizened elf looked bat at Harry, with huge eyes staring at him. 

"Repeat back to me the plan, Kreacher." 

"Kreacher takes Master Harry inside the residence, to the room that is unused. Kreacher is to disapparate outside. Kreacher is to take the Healer and Director inside the property wards and stay with them until the Healer has the medic tent set up. Kreacher is to take remainder of Aurors inside the Medic tent until Master Harry calls him a second time. Kreacher will then bring Master Charlie into the residence where he, with Kreacher's help, will take Madame Molly to the Healer's tent for medical treatment." 

"I'll give you more instructions once we have Mistress Molly out of the house." Harry looked up at Director Robards. "Good enough, sir?" 

"Kreacher?" 

"Auror Robards has a question?" 

"Don't get hurt. You're too valuable for this mission." 

"Kreacher won't be hurt. Master Harry forbid Kreacher from receiving injury." 

Kreacher reached his hand out and felt Harry's hand inside his. "Master must be very quiet. In there is not safe." 

"Merlin be with you, Potter," Robards muttered. 

"Thank you, sir. Ready, Kreacher?" 

Harry and Kreacher Disapparated from the apparition point north of the residence and landed in a tiny bedroom on the second floor of the cottage. Harry immediately silenced his boots and added a second layer of magic on him, disillusioning himself. 

"Kreacher, how many elves are in the house?" 

"None, Master Harry. Kreacher heard Master Ron's request to save elves from harm. Master Ron requested Kreacher help save elves. Kreacher returned to the Noble House of Lestrange when Master Harry was away. Kreacher commanded the elves to leave immediately. Kreacher sent them to safety, at Hogwarts." 

"You did? You and Ron did all that?" 

"Yes, sir. Kreacher didn't want other elves hurt. Did Kreacher make wise decision?" 

"That's completely brilliant! You did well. Once he's arrested, we'll ask Hermione to find better homes for them, with better families, or working at Hogwarts, if they want." 

"Yes sir. Now, Master Harry must be careful. Kreacher doesn't want you to be hurt." 

"I won't. Protect Molly for me, when she comes out. Whatever you do, you are not allowed to get hurt." 

"Yes, sir." Kreacher winked out with nary a sound. 

Harry stood still for a second, getting acclimated to his surroundings. A flick of his wand and the air in the confining room was cleaner, less likely to get him sneezing. "Kreacher said that Lestrange told the elves to keep his brother's room untouched. Good thing they listened." 

Harry stayed still while taking in his surroundings. He looked in the wand light that books were stacked in shelves and the writing desk was covered in dust, along with the parchment and dried ink stained quills. The curtains were old, from looking at the velvet with holes eaten into the cloth. The bed was a double, smaller than the one he slept in at home, but still made as if the owner would be returning sooner than later. 

Harry took one tentative step and heard nothing. He took another one and cast his wand forward, checking to see if his immediate path was impeded with wards. None showed up in front of him, in this cubby called a bedroom. 

If this was the brother's room, it would stay this way until the property was seized and sold. Harry knew that the other Lestrange brother would never return to this room having died the night of the Battle of Hogwarts. 

He didn't think the elves would mind much if someone else, some other family, lived here. 

Harry pulled the map from his jacket pocket and reviewed the layout once more. He saw that Molly was in a room down the hall and to his right. She was the focus of the mission, but not his immediate concern, except to make sure she was alive. 

Harry stuffed the map back into his jacket and checked the door. A quick spell showed it unprotected and another one to silence it, including the hinges. He opened it and saw only darkness in the upstairs hallway. He pointed his wand at the floor and saw the area in front of the landing leading downstairs was covered in green lattice. He quickly disarmed that trap and continued to hunt for more from his location. 

Each step was stressful, using magic to clear his path. Kreacher said he cleared some upstairs but he had to make sure. Complacency disabled many an Auror and assumption killed more. He wasn't going to be a sloppy Auror. He wasn't going to make mistakes, not on his most important mission. He didn't want Ginny to revive him just to murder him again, if he mucked up this mission. 

Harry took one last tentative step towards the door where Molly was being imprisoned. He pointed his wand at the doorknob and saw it wasn't warded. He pointed at the hinges and knob and silenced them too. One last spell opened it and he pushed only as far as he could look inside the room. Through the sliver of opening, he saw Molly, sitting in a chair by the window. 

Harry fought the initial impulse of going to her. From the mission briefing, that was fraught with danger. Depending on which binding spell was used, she could be catatonic to vicious and malevolent in a second. He was told, in harsh terms, not to approach her, not without additional help. 

He watched Mum just sitting in the chair, staring out the window. She was immobile in the chair, with only the flicker of the flame on the candle next to the table giving any indication that time was passing. She sat so still, almost paralyzed in the chair. "Do something, Mum," Harry whispered. 

Heartbeats passed and he watched, waiting on a sign that she was still alive. If she was dead, then it would take a miracle to keep Ron from strangling Lestrange, or using darker magic on the sod. But with three Weasley sons on-site, who knows how much damage they could do if Mum died in the kidnapper's custody. They might blow the whole island to hell. 

Molly took a huge breath. 

Harry relaxed. 

She took another breath and he settled onto his heels. He watched her breathing, but she never shifted her gaze from the darkness outside the room. Temptation warred in his soul, feeling a pull to alert her to his presence but training told him that was a bad job. 

"I'll be back shortly, Mum. The rescuers are here," Harry whispered before silently closing the door once more. He locked it, hoping that it wasn't necessary until he returned. 

He stepped out and went back to the head of the stairs. He knew the sod was somewhere, downstairs, possibly passed out from his overdose of pain potions or manic on pepper up potions. Kreacher had been most observant on that point – and insisted that Master Harry proceed with upmost caution when dealing with him. 

Harry silenced the stairs before taking his first tentative step. Each one was mercifully silent under his size 10 boots. He swept the walls, handrail, and steps for any possible curses and hexes in his path. Each step was thankfully clear. He descended the stairs, feeling the hairs on his skin and neck standing on edge. Silence was his reply. 

Harry stood quietly on the third step. Every nerve in his body was pulsing and his heart was racing. His off-hand was shaking but his wand-hand was steady. Hours of close-quarters magical combat with the other Aurors kept him steady, if on edge. But this, silently stalking a kidnapper, was entirely different. This could turn from apprehension to fighting to the death in an instant, no mercy expected or given. Yes, he had an advantage, knowing the layout of the residence. Time was against him, though. Could all of the potential traps and laid curses have been re-laid in the intervening 12 hours? Kreacher helped but what traps lay past the third step he was standing on? 

It was a chance he had to take, for the good of the mission. Just as long as there were no caterwauling charms inside the house, he was good to go. 

Harry re-verified the small landing he was going to wait on. He had to be absolutely sure he wasn't going to step on a trap, or lay his hand on something that would set off a proximity charm. 

Harry stepped onto the landing and looked around. Candles were flickering in the two rooms along with in the kitchen. Heirloom furniture was present in the parlour. He recognized the styles that originally adorned his own living room and residence too. Harry smiled for a second, recalling what Ginny privately referred to his original furniture – funeral parlour chic. 

Harry stood and looked around further. Candlelight flickered in the dining room. On the wall he saw a moving shadow – a human sized shadow. Harry leaned further over the bannister and saw a mound which looked like a jacket clothed back. _Homono revelum,_ he cast and saw the bright glow of gold in the kitchen. 

Harry took a tentative step and froze. He hadn't checked the ground below him and caught himself. He pointed his wand at the floor and cast his revealing spell. A bezor the size of Ron's fist jammed in his throat: the floor was cast in green lattice. 

He'd nearly stepped on a trip spell and probably gotten incapacitated if not injured or killed. 

He worked silently to disarm the spell, listening to the echo of Mad Eye Moody cursing his very existence. Moody would have yelled, and for good reason. Robards would give an eerie echo of Moody should Harry lived through the mission. While the voice of Robards and Moody castigated him, including his lack of manhood, he continued to work further, disarming the charm leading into the parlour. 

Before he took the next step, he cast revealing charms once more and saw no movement in the shadow in the kitchen. He'd saved himself certain injury and possible fatality by watching his damn step. 

Harry took one last step and glanced in the kitchen. He couldn't see yet, but had to verify. He took a step, sliding along the wall of the foyer. 

He took one deep breath and took another step towards the kitchen. 

"Damn," he mouthed to himself. He held his breath at what he saw.


	13. The Wands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry comes face to face with the kidnapper and he has to hustle to rescue Molly, with help, along with starting part 2 of the plan to capture the kidnapper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** Greetings readers and thanks for the reviews and follows. It's most appreciated.  
> This is your reminder, that this fic is **Rated T** , but this chapter is _a bit darker and harder_. If anyone needs trigger warning information, email me and I'll answer. No smut but dark themes about to be encroached. Just a fair warning for those with sensitive dispositions.  
>  And finally, I'm still not Jo but I like to think I'm as cheeky as she is. - _DG_

* * *

"Damn," he mouthed to himself.

He took one deep breath and took another step towards the kitchen. He held his breath at what he saw. 

"It's not Voldemort, you git," He let the breath out as softly as possible. "and it's not a fucking basilisk. He's just a wanted fugitive." 

This mass murderer hadn't chased immortality. This fiend hadn't delved the depths of the darkest magic. This one just had the blood of dozens, if not hundreds, on his hands. This was one of the half dozen Death Eaters remaining to be caught, one closer to feeling slightly safer. 

Rabastan Lestrange was sitting at a littered, decrepit table, reading a day old edition of the Daily Prophet. Crockery littered the table, along with a dirty tea cup in front of him along with a plate of buttered scones at his elbow. Behind him, on the counter, was littered with empty potion bottles and soiled takeaway cartons. Rubbish from other takeaway cartons piled out of the bin, covering the floor. Rancid leftovers covered the wood cooker. 

Harry swallowed a few times in a feeble attempt to ignore the stench coming from the room. He breathed in through his mouth instead of his nose, fighting the urge to retch and blow his cover. Ron's socks and dragon dung smelled better than this, like rancid milk or a badly run potions lab. How a man could live in such filth, even with elves, was beyond the scope of his understanding. The room was worse than fifth year, when the three of them were playing Quidditch, and Neville was doing more Herbology work with dragon dung. 

What tasks did the elves have, the ones that Kreacher sent away, while all of this mess was in the residence? There had to be an answer, one that he'd not fathomed yet. But that was for later, once he had Mum safely away and the fiend arrested. 

Interrogation would have to wait, as tempting as it was at the moment. His mission, his task to perform, came first and was explicitly clear: debilitate Lestrange only. Do not apprehend. 

Apprehending him now would only harm Mum, especially if she was cursed, like the Director anticipated. 

Harry spent seconds watching the wizard. He didn't look dangerous, or even notorious. He looked wretched, a shadow of the former image he saw in previous Pensive interviews. But then he also remembered that his Godfather was one of the most notorious criminals for the Ministry – but also completely innocent. Hermione said it best – Looks are deceiving, Harry. 

Not all dark and evil wizards have red eyes and no nose. But they did share a lack of humanity. His murderous ways spoke loudly about his lack of conscience. 

Harry pointed his wand at the sallow dark-haired man and silently stunned him. He fell over with a thud, spilling his tea all over the newspaper under his stunned face. The plate of scones was shoved off the table, breaking with a resounding crash. 

Harry stunned him a second time, to give them the time they needed. 

Harry walked over and checked his pulse. A strong beat thumped under his fingertips at the man's neck. He wiped his hand on his jacket, taking the perceived dirt from his hand. "Kreacher," He said aloud in the room. Within moments, Kreacher was standing before him. "Master called?" 

"Would you bring Charlie in? I'll meet you in the hallway upstairs. It's time to get her out of here." 

"Kreacher understands." He winked out and Harry raced up the stairs, taking them two at a time. His heavy boots echoed on the wood slatted walls, even if the wood itself was silenced. He had to run, since they didn't have that long, not before the plan was put in motion. 

He unlocked the door and heard the soft pop of apparition behind him. 

"How long," Charlie piped up, "do we have 'til he wakes?" 

"Maybe twenty minutes, if we're lucky." 

"Shite," he grunted. 

"You know once we start in on Mum, anything can happen." 

"Yeah, I know." Charlie pocketed his wand in his denims. "I hope it's not as bad as you say it can be. I don't want to have to fight Mum to get her out of the house." 

"We'll do what we have to. But then you know that better than I do." 

Harry unlocked the door and stood for a moment. Mum was still sitting like a statue in the chair by the window. Charlie stepped into the room first, with Harry following in tow. He closed the door and locked it again. Mum didn't move while the candle next to her continued to burn away the precious seconds they had. 

"Mum?" Charlie spoke up first. "Mum, it's Charlie. I'm here to take you home." 

Molly didn't react. Charlie stepped up to where Molly was sitting and knelt in front of her. "Mum, it's time to go home." He reached out and touched her on the hand. 

Molly roared out of the chair, slapping at Charlie. Her smaller hands landed, hitting him on the arms and occasionally the face. She was fighting him like her life depended on it. 

"Shite, Mum, stop. It's Charlie." Another crack echoed in the room and Charlie stumbled back, blood dripping between his fingers. 

She backed up towards the corner of the room, knocking over the table next to the bed. "Stay away," she hissed. "Don't touch me." 

"Harry, do something!" Charlie begged. 

Harry stepped to the other side and Molly lunged at him, shoving Charlie aside. He landed awkwardly on the windowsill, moaning in pain. Harry stepped back but tripped on Charlie's heel and fell to the floor. Molly was on him in a flash, slapping at his face and trying to claw his glasses off. 

"Charlie!" Harry kept his arms up in front of his face but felt the sting of Molly's hands beating him. 

Charlie reached in and pulled Mum off of Harry. "No!" she shrieked and tried to turn on Charlie. He kept her tight in his arms, keeping her hands away from him. She struggled while Charlie held her tight against his chest. 

"No, stop, Mum, quit it." While she struggled, she kicked Harry in the ribs. He rolled over, moaning in pain. 

Charlie continued to wrestle with Mum, ignoring her screeching epithets and flogging hands. Harry rolled onto his bum and found his glasses under the windowsill. He shoved them onto his face and watched Charlie wrestle Molly onto the bed while continuing to thrash in his arms. Her incoherent yelling didn't help him make sense of what was going on. 

"Harry, do something!" 

"I can't. If I use magic on her, it could hurt her." 

Charlie rolled with her and got back to his feet, holding Mum to him while she continued to flail her arms and legs. She struggled and then stopped suddenly. 

"Harry?" 

He watched her eyes roll up in her head before passing out. Charlie caught her before she could slip from his hold, keeping her from falling to the floor. 

"Put her on the bed," Harry said quietly. 

Charlie did as Harry asked and saw his Mum asleep. "Shite! What the bloody hell was that?" 

"You put your hand on her arm, on bare skin." 

"Well, yeah. How else was I going to get her to come with me?" 

"That was the binding put on her. Kingsley said that it might make her react that way." 

"Bloody hell! She fought like a juvenile Welsh Green there!" Charlie reached up and felt blood on his nose. "Great. Mum bloodied my nose." He wiggled his jaw too. "Hope she didn't knock anything out." 

Harry pointed his wand at Charlie and fixed the dislocation. Another spell and the sticky blood on his face disappeared. "Better?" 

"Yeah. But we're still cocked up." Harry reached over and plucked two hairs from Molly's head. "No time to banter about it. We've got to get her out of those robes so I can put them on before I take a dose of Polyjuice. Then you need to get her out of here." 

Charlie looked at Harry before looking at his Mum. "This is gonna suck. Why does she need to get taken out of here in just her knickers? There's got to be a better idea." 

"You think I want to see Mum in her unmentionables?" Harry reached over for her cardigan and stopped. "Change of plans. The old idea sucks. Kreacher!" 

Kreacher popped into the room with the three of them. "Kreacher, would you please apparate to the Burrow and get a change of Molly's clothes, including shoes. I'll wear the new ones and Mum won't be carried out of here in her knickers." 

They watched Kreacher disapparate and waited impatiently for him to return. "You think Mum went barmy because I touched her?" 

"I think so. The Healer said that it was a potential complication. It's a result of the spell Lestrange put on her. When you touched her skin, she went barmy. Kreacher said that she was fine until he touched her. Then she went completely mental, docile one minute, a monster the next." Harry ran his hand through the mop of hair on his head. "He didn't want to tell me that Mum hurt him. Kreacher said he forgave Madame Molly for accidentally hurting him. He blamed himself for it." 

"You think she's going to act that way when we take her out of here?" 

"I have no idea, Charlie. I'm boggled like you are on this." 

Charlie looked around the dank room with the dark linens and even darker curtains. "This place gives me the collywobbles. I don't like it here. It feels just _wrong_." 

"This whole thing is wrong, but we've got a job to do." 

"Feels like a fucking funeral parlour. I don't want to step - "

Kreacher popped back in with the articles of clothes. Charlie screamed like a toddler. "Shite, give a bloke some warning!" 

"Kreacher brings robes like Master Harry wanted." Kreacher turned to Charlie. "Master Charlie should have expected my immediate return. Kreacher cannot help it if Master Charlie is scared by his shadow." 

Harry laid them out on the rumpled bedclothes while ignoring the other two in the room. 

"Won't the bloke downstairs notice if you've changed clothes?" 

"I just needed a set of her robes, not the exact same ones." Harry pulled his wand and did a complicated incantation. Moments later, his proffered clothes were exact replicas to Molly's attire. "Auror grade imitation spells: dead useful sometimes, like now. Don't ask since I can't tell you what it is." 

"Wasn't going to; just waiting for you to get your shite settled before I get Mum out of here." 

Harry looked over everything in the room. Molly was still passed out and that would help them tremendously. 

"You need help lifting her? Or do you need Kreacher to take her out of her with you holding her?" 

"No, I'll get her. I don't want another reaction like that, if he accidentally touched any of her skin. Who knows what would happen." 

"Kreacher is glad to help." 

"Would you go inform the Healer and the Director that we're starting the extraction process and it's going to be about ten minutes before Charlie's near the tent? Keep watch out and make sure that Charlie stays protected while he's carrying Mum outside." 

"Gladly, sir." Kreacher popped out. 

Harry helped Charlie get Molly sitting up on the bed before Charlie hoisted her over his shoulder, almost like a side of beef. "Bet you couldn't do this, Potter." 

"I can lift Ginny but Mum's probably five stone heavier, I reckon. I'd have serious trouble getting her out of the house and back in time." 

"You got a plan?" 

"We'll make for the door. Once you two are out of the house, I'll start the next part of it." 

"You can't tell me what that is, can you?" Charlie asked while he struggled to get Mum comfortable on his shoulder. 

Harry opened the door and stepped out of his way, keeping it open for him. "No, and it's safer for you that way." 

Charlie took each step slowly, struggling to keep Mum situated on his shoulders. Harry kept behind him, keeping watch for new spells on the floor or any unusual noises. 

"You better hope that you can get transformed and get the trap sprung in an hour." 

"I'll do the transformation once you are out of the house and safely away. I've got Kreacher to assist if I cock up the potion, but I doubt I will." 

Charlie stopped and looked. "Oh fuck, this is gonna be a mess." He looked at the steep slant of the ceiling above the stairs as well as the narrow stairs he needed to descend to make it to the front door. "Getting her down those stairs is going to be a bugger, isn't it?" 

"Time's the essence. The Healer can fix her once you get her to him." 

"You're going to need more than an hour, Potter. And what about my brother? How will you pass without showing him the potion?" 

"Sorry Charlie, but this is Auror grade Polyjuice potion. It's a four hour dose, thanks to Neville. Now, let's get Mum downstairs and out into the night. I'll take it once I get back up here. You never know." 

Charlie shifted his hips and planted his feet wider. "And if I bump Mum's head?" 

"We thought this might be a problem." Harry looked like he expected this problem. "Just do the best you can." 

Charlie took one tentative step down the stairs. "Sorry Mum, but this is for your own good." Her head bumped slightly into the ceiling. He took another step and mum bumped into the ceiling again. A third and her ankle twisted slightly. "Sorry," Charlie muttered. 

Harry stayed poised at the top of the stairs, keeping watch until Charlie had made the dozen steps down the stairs. He then descended to keep a wand out towards the foyer and kitchen. 

"I hate this whole fucking situation." 

Charlie made it to the bottom of the stairs and stood for a moment, catching his breath. "You'd have passed out by now, Potter." 

"Probably, Charlie. I know you're hurting but we gotta keep going." 

Charlie made the last two steps and stood resolute in the foyer. "Get that damn door open, Potter." 

Harry pointed his wand at it and saw the green latticework of malevolent spells on the door. "Paranoid fucker," Charlie huffed behind Harry. 

"Wouldn't you if you kidnapped the Weasley matriarch?" Harry disarmed the additional spells and opened the door. "Whatever happens, don't come back in here. Protect Mum and the Healer." 

Harry unlocked the front door and watched Charlie make the porch. "Kreacher, please inform the Healer and Robards that Charlie's on his way out and that he needs the way lit for him." 

"Kreacher will help Master Charlie and Madame Molly," a gravelly disembodied voice spoke up. 

Harry took a step outside. "Whatever you do, don't cross those wards." 

"I know. I heard it from Bill. Thanks Harry," Charlie groaned. "Off I go," he said before taking the first steps out of the cottage and out into the darkness. Harry stood watching Charlie carrying Mum over his shoulder. He wanted to go with but had to trust Charlie to get her to safety. If anyone would make sure Mum was safely absconded, it'd be him. 

Harry turned and went back in the house, locking and sealing it. 

He went to check on Lestrange. As expected, he was still passed out at the table. Harry reset the warding on the front door and turned his attention back on Lestrange. "Either this works, or it's cocked up entirely." 

Harry disillusioned himself once more and stepped back into the doorway to the kitchen. As tempting as it was, he was going to stick to the plan and follow it accordingly. He pointed his wand at Lestrange and silently revived him. It'd be at least twenty minutes, by his calculations, before Lestrange would be awake enough to realize something was up. 

Only when he started stirring did Harry silently slip upstairs and into his bedroom. Once he was in there, he stripped out of his Auror robes, everything he had on. He pulled out the holster for his wand and the vial of Polyjuice. He dropped in the hairs and recited the particular incantation. It started as chalk brown and eventually turned a shade of ginger, not unlike Ginny's hair after she'd been out flying all summer long. 

He had to wait sixty seconds – that was what Neville told him. Sparkles meant most effective. Fire meant that it had been too long and it was most dangerous to drink. The master potioneer said that to both of them. So, while he waited, he shoved all of his Auror robes into his rucksack and shoved that under the bed. 

He hoped that Lestrange didn't bother to look under there. If Lestrange saw the bag, he'd be buggered. 

The potion sparkled for a second and Harry downed it. Like the last time, it tasted worse than dragon's balls and went down like chalky dirt. "It's be nice if they could change the damn taste!" 

He felt it first, in his stomach, and then watched his body change. Harry felt himself shrinking and also expanding. Mum was about five foot two but also had hips because of birthing seven children. His feet grew smaller, but wider. His ankles expanded along with his belly and hips. He shrunk about 8 inches, and grew matronly. Everything changed. 

And his eyes got better. "'bout the only good out of this bloody ordeal!" 

He watched in the mirror as his hair changed from messy black locks to gold and white hair. "Damn it, I need to put this up." Harry wound it around his head with magic, settling onto the back of his head. "This should pass, for now." 

The last thing to go on was his wand holster, strapped to his forearm under the borrowed natty jumper. "Mum, we live through this, you're getting a wardrobe of posh jumpers." 

Harry shoved the glasses into his ruck before working fast to put on the bulky clothes and snug shoes. He only had to act like her around Lestrange and not a moment sooner. 

All he had to do now was inform Ron that he was ready and Mum was safely out of the house. He thought of the happiest memory he had – one from a month prior. 

_"With this ring, forged in the fires of my heart and soul, bound with my life, freely given, I offer these vows,_ " Harry recalled his own vows, _"… under the authority vested in me by the Ministry of Magic, by the Church of England and with my blessing," the Vicar intoned, "I bond thee wedded."_

Harry cast his Patronus. Prongs appeared before him, shaking his antlers at Harry. "I'm in. I'm changed. Mum and Charlie are out. Three hours, fifty five minutes remaining. It's your show now. Don't you dare leave my ass hanging!" 

Harry sat down at the window and waited. He prayed that he lived long enough for Ginny to murder him. 

* * *

"Weasley, head's up."

Prongs cantered into their presence, with a terrible imitation of Mum's voice along with it. "I'm in. I'm changed. Mum and Charlie are out. Three hours, fifty five minutes remaining. It's your show now. Don't you dare leave my ass hanging." 

Arthur took a deep breath and pulled up the happiest memory he had. His Patronus popped into existence, silently barking in the darkness of the lakefront. 

"Lestrange, I'm outside. I'll come in willingly once you release Molly." 

He watched it bark once more before racing across the open terrain. Arthur heard almost silent pops a few feet away from him, hidden by the darkness and disillusioned further. Harry promised that when he sent Prongs, Molly would be safely out of the house and protected by the Aurors, and Charlie. 

Harry's word was galleon quality gold. 

Now it was his turn, and a dragon's worth of courage. The plan had a small window of opportunity to work. Now that she was out of the house, it was his turn in the complicated plan. 

Merlin help them this didn't go pear shaped immediately. 

The waiting was scaring him witless but he had a job to do. The Aurors were right – there was no choice when it came to getting Molly back. They needed him, and he needed to do this. 

Sweat broke out under his vest and trickled down his spine. His hands were clammy, cold in the January night air. His breath puffed in front of his face and the cold fogged up his wire rimmed glasses. 

Seconds ticked by, kept in a rudimentary cadence by the tattoo of his rapid heartbeat. Robards promised him that everyone else was safe, protected behind Auror grade enchantments and by his own wand. He couldn't promise that the plan wouldn't go to hell in the first moment. Even he knew that. Promises were only worth the soul they were made on. His father taught him that one. 

Everyone to man – and witch, too – promised to cover him. Harry promised again on his life. What he couldn't trust was the bloody git inside the house, waiting to spring the trap. In fact, as Director Robards said it, there were so many assumptions that they didn't know shite. 

He prayed that his family would forgive him for taking this terrible risk. If they didn't, he knew that he'd taken every precaution to keep them safe and out of harm's way. 

Arthur offered up a small prayer, not to anyone or anything in particular, that the healer could help Molly enough before she was whisked away to St. Mungo's. He prayed that the asshole didn't blast him as soon as he saw him. And he offered up a prayer to anything or one that was listening that if the sod didn't kill him instantly, that he'd be mostly left intact, where the healers could fix him if anything did happen. 

A soft pop to his left was all the warning he had. Arthur turned towards the noise, his wand pointing in the general direction, and felt it splinter in his palm. He was hit with a stunning spell and felt a claw-like hand grip his shirt. 

He didn't have time to yell before he was apparated back inside the wards. 

Arthur landed hard, bumping his knees on the tile of the kitchen. His outcast arms were enough to save his face from ruin. A crunch made him wince. 

"Weasley." He felt magic flow over him and freeze him in place. "I was wondering if you'd show up, or if you'd run to those bloody Aurors like the traitor you are." Arthur was manipulated, via magic, into a chair and moulded to the frame. Another spell was uttered and he was manacled to the kitchen chair. One last one spell immobilized him from the neck down. 

"I always liked the thought of you like this." Lestrange scowled. "I hope all your affairs are in order. Sit tight while I go get your wife." He walked out of the kitchen. 

He'd bitten his tongue hard on the landing, tasting the bitter copper in his mouth. But it also helped him keep his wits about him, and focused his impotent anger instead of raging ruminations. Auror Jones drilled that into him: Molly came first, then the witness statements. But she didn't say he couldn't do both while he waited, while in pain. 

He spat onto the ground and worked his tongue on all of his teeth. They all seemed present so it wasn't that. He ran his tongue over his lips and tasted blood again. "Shite," he groaned. 

Rubbish lay everywhere, from potion bottles littering the tabletop to the takeaway cartons on the counter top. Sacks of takeaway plastic were strewn all over the floors. Dirty dishes were stacked in the sink, covered in mold while old food stank up the room. He breathed in through his mouth, remembering that dragon dung smelled just as bad as this. Charlie stank as much after working outside during the summer. 

Heavy footfalls echoed in the room, alerting him to a renewed presence. 

"Come along Mummy. Your husband wants to see you." 

He stared gobsmacked at Molly before him. Lestrange towered over her, by almost a foot. Then again, he did too. 

She swayed on her feet, looking wobbly and probably cursed. But then he saw her eyes and knew they'd betrayed Lestrange's secret – they were the same ones he saw too many times after the war ended. 

The last time he saw it was almost a month prior. 

"Alright Weasley, conjure your Patronus." 

"I can't. You broke my wand." 

Lestrange looked in his hands and in his pockets. He looked at Weasley's feet and saw the broken wand lying there. "Oh me, looks like I did." 

He shoved his wand into Weasley's frozen hand. "Form your Patronus, Weasley. If she says it's you, then I'll let her leave. Little Molly isn't strong enough to handle the bloodletting." 

"No." He thrust his chin out in mock defiance. "Let her go." 

Lestrange ripped the wand out of Arthur's frozen fist and whipped it towards his face, cutting a nasty gash across his cheek. Lestrange turned and pointed his wand at Molly's throat. "You're testing my patience, Weasley. Shall I demonstrate how easily I can take her head, right here, letting her blood spill over your boots? I bet you forgot how much blood will flow from a small slash, or a piercing in the right place." 

The room went instantly chilly, a cold so harsh it burned. "You win. Release her." 

Lestrange held the wand tight against her neck. He pushed it a touch harder and she groaned. "Well, I'm waiting." 

"Give me the wand. I can't demonstrate a Patronus without it." 

Lestrange pulled a knife and held it to Molly's throat while Arthur remembered his best happy memory. A Patronus popped into existence. 

"Is this his Patronus?" Lestrange asked menacingly. "Is this Weasley's Patronus?" 

"Yes," Molly replied in a whisper. "It's his." 

Lestrange ripped the wand back out of Weasley's frozen fist. He pointed the wand at the door, removing the warding before unlocking it. One last spell opened it into the night. He spun and pointed his wand at Molly and performed a painfully obvious incantation on her. "Run, little Molly, but don't run too far. Freedom comes with a cost and you've not paid yet." He laughed maniacally before giving her a hard shove towards the open doorway. She fell onto her face, splitting her lip, before taking a stumbling step out into the darkness. 

Rabastan cackled into the enveloping darkness. 

He turned and the darkness swallowed his face, letting the mirth flash across his eyes. "You have what you want, Weasley." 

"You sodding bastard, you didn't remove her binding. I saw what you did! You confounded her. You didn't free her, only released her." 

A sharp crack reverberated in the room. Lestrange had slapped his cheek and he felt the sting only after hearing the bone crunching against his cheek and glasses. "You're a gullible old fool. I never promised to free her from the binding, only to release her. And now I look forward to spilling your tainted blood." Rabastan lifted his wand and pointed it at the door, closing and locking it again and reapplying the enchanted ward on the entryway. The wood floor flashed green before darkening. 

Rabastan turned his wand back on Weasley. "Before I die, I will find every single drop of Weasley blood and exterminate it. When I'm done, the name Weasley will be struck from existence. If my name perishes, so does yours." 

"But I – "

Rabastan cracked Arthur across the nose, breaking it with a sickening crunch. Arthur groaned in pain. 

"You should have saved my brother, you buggering fuck. He was worth a hundred pathetic Weasley lives." 

Blood dripped down Arthur's face and onto his lap. 

"I've waited years to kill you. It's too bad that you'll only suffer a small portion of time." 

He did the first incantation, non-verbally, and Arthur felt nothing but pain. 

* * *

"Run, little Molly, but don't run too far. Freedom comes with a cost and you've not paid yet." Lestrange's laughter only added fuel to the fire. The hard shove, and landing on the borrowed face, only spurred Harry on faster. He ran out into the darkness, running as fast the short legs would carry her.

A faint door slam pushed her onward. 

Harry's head was fuzzy under the weak confounding and the power of Veritiserum and his heart was beating out his chest. Yet he ran on Molly's short legs while he fought the effects. He'd trained to fight it, and work through the haze. 

He hadn't trained to fight it while looking like someone else. 

Fortunately Ron and Hemera said this might be a possibility: How would a paranoid wizard know the victim was telling the truth? He'd make a person conjure their Patronus and ask. 

Lestrange's possession of Veritiserum was terribly vexing. How did someone like Lestrange get their hands on a class five potion in the first place? Who was running heavily regulated potions that hardened criminals had access to? 

Why didn't anyone consider that he'd have a vial of Veritiserum? How did he get it? 

Every Auror who came through the department, from a first week washout to a grizzled veteran knew the risk: overdose on the potion and you'd probably end up like the Longbottoms, but without the torture involved. It didn't make him feel any better, knowing he'd been dosed against his will. It would be another charge against Lestrange if he was arrested and made it to a trial. 

Harry would just have to avoid getting dosed again for the next few weeks. 

He stumbled and fell into the cold mud. He knew to report the problem as soon as he made the tent, wherever the bloody hell it was. Intercepting and stopping, once and for all, illegal potions would be for another day with other Aurors. 

"Where the bloody hell is the tent?" he growled while trying to push his borrowed form up onto her feet. "Damn it," Harry groaned. The stitch in his side wouldn't let up. He needed an antidote for the Veritiserum and a potion to reverse the Polyjuice. If he went back into the residence looking like Molly Weasley, he'd be hurt. Fighting wand to wand looking like Mum would be fatal, if he wasn't using his normal muscles. 

And then there was Mum. Lestrange confunded him, not Molly. He'd not removed her binding. She was still stuck on the property. 

"Where the hell is the tent?" he grumbled. He stood still for a moment, trying to get the stich in his side to let go. He groaned, stretching his aching legs at how cocked up everything was on the case and the entire fucking situation. Only duty kept him from turning around and fighting his way into the house so Arthur wouldn't be hurt. Only his promise to Ron did he check Mum first before returning with the Aurors. 

He tripped on a root sticking out and fell once more into the cold mud. The juiced lungs were burning and Molly's body was huffing and puffing too much on a light jog from the manor. Each rib felt like tearing and there were stitches in his side where he didn't think it was possible. Then again, in the cold January air, and the breeze from the lakefront probably didn't help either. 

"Here," he heard through the breeze. A lone wand tip illuminated the Auror hiding place. 

He staggered up from where he fell and Harry stumbled along the marshy pond edge and landed inside the disillusioned Auror tent. Bright light blinded him for a brief moment before his eyes adjusted. 

The Auror tent was nothing like the one they'd camped in my necessity that year. This one had a workstation for the Director and his reports, as well as a second section for casualties. Mum was there, with Charlie kneeling next to her. She was asleep while Healer Fawcett-Smalls was working with his wand on her other side, running it up and down her supine form. 

"Potter's here, sir." 

Director Robards turned around. "Finally. Weasley?" 

"In the trap. We don't have a lot of time, sir." 

"Problems?" 

"Plenty, sir. Harry stood and wobbled in front of the Director. 

The Director huffed. "What did Lestrange do to you?" 

"The sod dosed me with Veritiserum." Harry wobbled further. "And he confunded me." 

The Healer handed over the first vial. "This is to counteract the Veritiserum." 

Robards silently removed the nefarious charm laid on him. "Drink it, Potter." Harry did as commanded. Harry downed it immediately and felt his head clear within seconds. "Thanks." 

"Now, what did Lestrange say?" 

"He's completely mental, claiming that he's going to murder the entire Weasley family. But he asked me where Ginny was right now, and I had to tell him. He's planning on hunting down everyone named Weasley, and their partners. That is, if he doesn't perish fighting us." 

"Did Lestrange do anything else?" 

"He released Molly – me, not her – but not from the binding. He said once he kills Arthur, he's hunting her – me – down, too." Harry threw off the cardigan and unwound the hair on his head. Harry was handed a second vial. "What's this?" 

"It's the required second potion, for anyone who was dosed. The Director asked me to bring it, just in case. This will protect you should you get force-fed anymore tonight." Harry swallowed the potion that looked like shrimp curry. He choked once before getting it all down. 

Harry was then proffered a third vial, one that looked like the algae stained mud he just trampled through. "Oh this is going to be nasty." 

"Shut it and get it down, Potter. Kreacher's leaving in a minute to take the second group into the house. You're going back in with Auror Jones once you're dressed." 

Harry saw them standing next to his elf. "Don't leave 'til we get there. And Kreacher, when you take them in, can you get my Ruck? It's under the bed in the room where Molly was being held." 

"Yes, sir," Kreacher croaked before the second group of Aurors departed. 

Harry downed the third cup and choked as it rolled down his throat. He fought the gag reflex before feeling the effects start. 

"Nice outfit, Harry." 

He looked up from where he had knelt over and saw the concern on Charlie's face. "Sod the pants, Charlie. How's Mum doing?" Harry toed off the shoes that would become immediately too small for his feet. He worked quickly to strip out of the rest of the borrowed clothes, leaving him standing in the tent in only his skin. 

Charlie refused to look at him once he was out of Mum's muddy clothes and down to his skin. 

"Gotta give you and Weasley credit, Potter. Using Elf magic for this mission was a stroke of brilliance." 

"Kreacher has been a help since I inherited him. His previous owners –"

"You mean the Black family?" 

"Yeah, them. They weren't very good to him, or very kind, either. But it's Hermione who helped him most. He loathed her for being a Muggleborn but she was the one who stood up for him most of all, at least with us." 

Anxiety gripped him for a brief moment. What if the counter-potion didn't work and he'd be stuck going back into the house looking like Molly Weasley? He'd get himself and Ron killed in the process. 

Charlie watched his Mum's sleeping face and kept ahold of her hand. 

The growing anxiety burst when he felt the first ripples of change on his spine. He knew it was working, changing back, but the forced transformation still hurt. Now at least he'd have a fighting chance against that monster. "Bugger, forgot about the eyesight." The picture before him turned fuzzy almost instantly. 

"Healer said that she's dehydrated and hasn't eaten in about 2 days. The Healer's research said that the continued effects of the second bond might make her waste away, given long enough under the curse. He also said that she hadn't been molested, but she'd been physically hurt." Charlie motioned but Harry couldn't discern what he was doing. 

"Charlie, I can't see shite yet. What are you motioning about?" 

Kreacher popped back into the Auror tent. "Kreacher has returned, Master Harry. We must return quickly." Kreacher toddled over and shoved huge blurry ruck at Harry. "Kreacher brought Master's bag." 

Harry struggled with his ruck, pulling out the various items by touch until he found his pants. He slid them up his thin legs before shoving his glasses back onto his face. 

"Bastard tried to strangle her," he growled quietly. "And she's got a nice bruise on her face, one we didn't see in the house. It looks like he took a penchant for roughing her up. I just hope it was 'cause Mum was showing her temper at him. If she went banshee like she did on him, I hope she hurt him even worse." 

One nasty question bothered him. "Why'd the Healer check for molestation?" 

"He said it's Healer protocol for a kidnap victim, whether it's man, or woman, and Magical creatures too." 

"Oh." Harry fought the urge to be sick. 

Charlie frowned though. "No matter what else, it looks like the sod hit her, repeatedly, for whatever reason." 

"The ones around her neck aren't fresh, Auror Potter." The Healer didn't bother to look at him while he continued his assessment. "They look two to three days old, from my experience. But the ones on her face are fresh, within the last day." The Healer looked at the other two men. "I've healed most of the various cuts on her hands and arms. Kreacher said he was attacked by her and he had to defend himself." 

Harry looked at Mum and Charlie. "I can't stay, Charlie. I need to go back in there. Ron needs me."

"Go get him." Charlie looked back at his mum, holding her cold hands inside his own. "I'll take care of Mum." 

His cloak went back on as well, hiding the rest of him. "Alright there Jones?" Auror Jones came over to the other side of Kreacher. They had their wands out, ready for anything. 

"You know the drill: Constant vigilance, gentlemen. You know how paranoid he is." 

Harry reached out for the wizened elf hand, along with Auror Jones, and they were deposited inside the spare bedroom. Everyone heard Arthur screaming downstairs. "Kreacher, go. We'll handle it." 

"Yes, sir." He winked out in an instant. 

Harry settled the cloak around him once more. "Everyone ready?" 

Three additional wandtips flared for a brief moment before Harry grasped the door. Auror Jones would hang back, as backup and as Wizengamot witness. "Silence your feet. We don't need him being aware." Harry couldn't see Auror Smythe to know that the room was crowded with Aurors. Harry felt magic wash over him before three wand tips flared once more. He took a deep breath before opening the door. The upstairs was bathed in darkness. He took a first step and breathed a sigh of relief. 

He flourished his wand towards the floor and saw no magic on the walls or the floor. 

Arthur yelled again. 

He crept to the top of the stairs and looked. Shadows from the kitchen danced on the landing wall. He pointed his wand again and saw the landing had been trapped again. Once again, he dismantled the spell. 

Each step down tested his patience. Arthur's grunts of pain tempted him to move faster, with greater potential for harm. 

"You're a pathetic excuse for a Pureblood, Weasley." Harry heard a curse and was immediately followed by an agonizing bellow from the kitchen. "You can't even handle a simple curse without bellowing about it." 

"Hurry, Potter," Smythe grunted behind him. 

Harry stepped onto the landing and checked the foyer again. He could only shake his head at the green lattice magic on the floor and door. He disarmed those as well. He flared his wand again and he felt three bodies slide past him. Everyone had to be in position before he could act. 

He glanced into the kitchen and saw Rabastan Lestrange, standing over Arthur. He was saying something quietly, something he couldn't understand. Harry took two silent steps towards the kitchen. He had to know what was being said. 

A vile epithet made him shake his head before he heard a thread that made his blood turn to ice. 

"When I finish with you, I'm hunting little Molly. I bet she's a sport, out on the grounds. Once I kill her, I'm going to find that harlot of a child and kill her. See, Molly was most kind to tell me where she is, where her flat is. After that, I think that granddaughter of yours will suffice. But when I'm finished, the name of Weasley will be wiped from existence." 

Harry took one step. 

A caterwauling charm screeched in the house. 

"Oh for Fuck's sake," he heard Lestrange growl before he apparated away. He landed with a hard thud back in the kitchen. "You damn blood traitor coward! You called in the Aurors." A sharp crack and a groan echoed out of the kitchen. "I just knew you were a coward and would run to those incompetent fools." Another sharp crack reverberated from the kitchen. 

Harry stayed frozen on the wall. He didn't dare move lest he give away his hiding place. 

"You're a disgrace, Weasley." There was another crack and grunt from the kitchen. 

Harry stayed still in the hallway. He moved an inch and saw Ron's head hanging down, blood dripping onto his lap. Smythe, Williamson, and Appleby were somewhere downstairs, hiding like he was. Jones was somewhere in the house, probably hidden like he was. 

Sod the mistakes. Robards would have their heads for the potential cock-up. He hoped that Hemera wouldn't hang them out to rot over the cockups going on. But until he could creep up and help Ron, he was stuck in the place in the foyer. 

Lestrange stood quietly, listening to the house. A slight creak in the wood floorboards turned his head towards the dining room. He disillusioned himself and Harry wanted to bite his wand in frustration. 

"Where'd he go?"


	14. Now Repeat after me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hunt is on for Molly's kidnapper inside the residence, and he proves to be a cunning adversary in more ways than one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** Welcome back for another chapter. My thanks to those who like, read, follow, favorite, or fangirl over. It's most appreciated. Fair warning for those in Newcastle – there is more in here and it is about to get darker. If you want additional warnings, please email me. This chapter earns the warning, including character death.  
>  If that's not your cup of tea, you might want to wait 'til the next installment, maybe.  
> I dedicate this chapter to the indomitable, charismatic, and extraordinarily talented Christopher Lee. Between Horror films, a time in the service, of which is still covered under the Secrets Act, as well as writing books and performing Heavy Metal music... Well, this dragon is mourning his passing.  
> As a reminder, this fic is **rated T** , since there is no smut, but it's now a **_Hard T_** , for violence in addition to Ron Weasley's filthy mouth.
> 
> Finally, still not Jo but she's besties with a crime writing author so that makes her A-OK in my book. - _DG_

* * *

_Where'd he go?_

Harry took a step into the den, avoiding the edges of sofas as well as tables, and saw Arthur Weasley appear in the doorway of the room. 

"Shite," Arthur said. He immediately cast a shield charm and watched a stunning spell ricochet impotently into the ceiling. He ducked as another one flew over his head. 

Another caterwauling charm exploded in discordant harmony, drowning out the din of the spells firing back and forth. Harry tried to intervene but couldn't get a clear bead on where Lestrange was hiding. 

"Two Arthur Weasleys? Impossible!" Spells flashed back and forth, each one growing in intensity. More spells flew, as fast as the hands and thoughts passed. "Damn Aurors! Fuckin' Polyjuice!" Spells flew only feet from the originator, one visible and one not. 

A blue spell flashed by Arthur Weasley's head and exploded the antique china case behind him. Harry ducked out of habit, landing with a painful thud on the hardwood floor. His ears rattled and his eyes tried to focus in the now dim light. He worked as fast as possible to throw his cloak over himself, in case his own disillusionment charm dissipated. He couldn't see shite with the smoke, the darkness, and the disillusionment charms. 

Another loud crack and crash buffered his ears before the explosions stopped. Something fell across his legs and he bit his hand to stifle the yell. 

Harry raised his head and looked into the overwhelming darkness of the dining room and stared hard. Smoke drifted through the room and over his prone form. 

One lone wand tip burst in illumination. Lestrange emerged from his own disillusionment and looked at the Arthur Weasley in front of him. Weasley was standing resolute but boggled at the growing bloom soaking his jumper. 

Harry crawled closer in the darkness until he was lying at the edge of the doorway. 

This Arthur fingered the antique candelabra protruding from his chest and neck. He collapsed to the floor with a painful grunt and agonizing thud. 

Harry wanted to curse the bastard standing in the doorway to the dining room. He wanted to throttle the Auror with his bare hands. He should have known better and still tripped a charm on the bloody floor. Ron quality epithets rolled through his head, each one worse than the last one. 

But duty held him in place. He couldn't jeopardize his cover. 

"Pureblood affairs are no business for others, whoever you are." Lestrange stood over the injured auror and pointed his wand at his face. Weasley worked his mouth, trying to make words come out of his damaged neck but he failed to utter a syllable. "Good riddance." 

Harry turned his head, unable to watch what was about to happen. He heard the words, the ones that echoed in his nightmares occasionally, as the coup de grace as a final spell. 

Another caterwauling charm went off, this time from the area near the mudroom. A third one went off upstairs while a fourth erupted from the back patio. 

Lestrange spun and cast hexes into the kitchen, exploding the door leading outside. 

Lestrange heard another creak, this time from upstairs. He disillusioned himself and a barely audible pop gave away that he disapparated, to somewhere on the property. 

Harry made himself look at the dead Auror before he knelt down. He reached over and checked the pulse point on the other side of the ruined neck. Lestrange's last uttered spell made it pointless what he was doing, but since he was a trained Auror, he'd verify anyway. Chilled hands touched the abnormally cold skin and got messy in the blood on his neck. Even his trained hands, taught in classes by a staff Healer, knew when a pulse was absent. 

Harry spied the St. Catherine medallion around his neck. "Jasper," he whispered. Smythe was the only one of the Aurors who wore a medallion, given him by his grandmother, on the day he received his badge. "Ron's going to lose a nut." 

Moody and Robards' vile litany rambled in his head. 

He closed Smythe's eyes. 

Smythe getting killed mucked up their entire plan. He couldn't help him now but there were those he could help. As usual, the plan is as good until it went pear shaped. Good thing he had years of experience in pear shaped plans. 

Harry kept the cloak on his back while he slunk into the kitchen. He stayed as close to the floor as possible, staying low and small, so any haphazard spells would fly over him. His job was to get to the Arthur in question. 

He froze when Lestrange apparated into the kitchen and threw a spell towards the foyer, ducking another one that blew out the wall behind them. Harry crouched behind the counter and watched silently. 

Another caterwauling charm went off and Lestrange disapparated towards the noise. Another charm went off upstairs, followed by another in the parlour. 

Harry understood that his team was making more caterwauling charms and then setting them off. He realized the opportunity afforded and snuck over to Arthur. He was breathing, blowing bubbles of blood from his lips. Blood crusted his nose and along his cheeks. His receding hairline was bright red and bruised, probably from being battered. 

Harry lifted Arthur's head and saw the cuts and contusions on his face. He didn't stir. 

"Wake up," he hissed, "Damn it, wake up! For the love of Mum's –"

Arthur raised his head. "Fuck off, twat; I'm not telling you anything." 

Harry pulled a face and worked to release the bindings on his ankles. "It's me, you git. You look like shite." 

"I feel like a dragon sat on my face. Not the most pleasant of experiences, I reckon." Arthur tried to laugh but winced from the split lip and tremendous contusions on his cheeks. "This assignment sucks hippogriff balls." 

"Hippogriffs don't have bollocks, at least that I know of." 

"Yeah they do. They're like ducks that way," Arthur groaned. "Feel like I've been kicked so hard that I've got hippogriff balls now." 

"Bastard hurt you pretty good." Harry took the rope off of the second ankle and tried to move his boots off the ground. One spell later and they were unstuck via the magic that held him in place. "Almost there." Harry pulled the last of the coarse rope from Arthur's right wrist and shoved a wand in his hand. It disappeared up his sleeve under his right hand. "Whose wand was that?" Harry motioned to the broken wand on the ground. 

"Wasn't. It was a stick I picked up. Figured Lestrange would break it and it'd be no loss. Shite, my head hurts." 

"Brilliant!" Harry worked the ropes to where they only lay on his boots and not tight around the ankles. 

"I'm ready to leave now," he whispered. "Can we get out of here? Nothing worse than – " Arthur went to move but his left hand was still tightly wound to the chair. 

"I can't free you yet," Harry said pathetically. "He's still in the house. Did he use magic on you, besides to stick you here?" 

Arthur settled back into the chair and slumped down. "Yeah, he did." Arthur wiggled his fingers on his left hand. "The immobilization spell broke when the first caterwauling charm went off. He must not have done the spellwork completely right since I'm free." He muttered something further, with Harry only catching Hermione's name and _bloody well hurt._

One quiet pop, coming from the front foyer, was Harry's only warning. He crouched low behind Arthur and slinked to the other side of the table, hiding like a mouse under his cloak. Ominous footfalls pounded into the room and right up to Arthur. His head bent back further than expected, probably from a wand at his throat and his short hair being pulled roughly. "Show yourselves, all of you, or Weasley gets it. I'll find little Molly too once I'm done with him." 

Harry was inches away from Lestrange but he didn't dare move, much less breathe. He couldn't take a chance if his spell missed his disillusioned body. 

"You're under arrest." A voice boomed out that rattled the walls of the house. "Put down the wand now." 

Harry shifted an inch to get a clear shot of Lestrange. He couldn't do it, not without giving away his position. 

"Sod off, all of you. Weasley here will die first, followed by Little Molly outside." Arthur's head bent back even further. Harry saw a faint outline of where he guessed Lestrange was standing. 

"You're deep in your potions, Lestrange," Arthur croaked first. 

"You're bluffing." A disconnected voice echoed through the house. 

"How many lives will you sacrifice to get me, eh?" Lestrange yelled into the gutted residence. 

Harry watched Arthur slide his own wand down from the sleeve on his arm. Harry couldn't get a good shot off, not with him in the way. He tried to move an inch and froze when a stunning spell flew over his head, shattering the window behind him. 

"I said show yourselves!" Another spell flew through the front foyer, hitting the front door. "I know there's more than one in here. I can feel it." 

"You're mental, blowing the house apart." Arthur croaked behind Lestrange. "I'm the only one here." 

"Am I?" Arthur's head bent so far back it looked ready to snap off. One drop of blood fell from the indention into his neck while Arthur was wincing from the pain. "I have nothing to lose, not now." Another spell flew, this time into the formal dining room. "I'll blow the house apart to find you, whoever you are." 

"Put down your wand, Rabastan. I'm here." Harry saw the shimmer of a shadow in the foyer a second before the similar image of Rabastan standing in the front foyer. "Lower your wand, brother of mine." 

Harry squinted further and saw some subtle differences. The hair was styled differently, and the clothes looked a slightly faded worn look to them. But this Lestrange looked younger, healthier almost. This one looked almost well cared for, by comparison. 

"Rodolphus?" Rabastan lowered his wand. "I saw you die." He took a step forward, leaving Arthur tied to the chair. 

He saw Arthur subtly slide his wand down his arm to his hand. 

"I didn't die, Rabastan. The spider dropped me when he was hit with Weasley's feeble curse. The stupid sod didn't kill me. Incompetent buffoon couldn't even kill me, as much as he tried." 

Rabastan lowered his wand to his thigh. He stepped forward and froze. "The spider bit you, twice. You were bleeding, screaming in pain." He shrunk slightly and lifted his wand. "I saw you die." 

"I'm standing here, aren't I? I'm not dead if I'm here, talking with you. And yeah, it bloody well hurt. But the creature didn't poison me, no more than any other regular spider would. I was able to keep my wand and escape." Rodolphus took another step forward. "I didn't die." 

Rabastan shook his head, grunting under his shaking. "It's not true. Can't be true." 

Harry watched Arthur wink before turning his wand upwards, towards Lestrange. Heartbeats echoed by and still Rabastan stood there, in front of Arthur, looking at a vision of his very much alive brother. 

"Why did you just show up? Why'd you hide all these years? I killed because of you, after your death. I thought we'd been betrayed. So I killed as many as I could." Lestrange pointed his wand at his brother. "This is some sort of sorcery!" 

"I had to, Rabastan. That blood Traitor Kingsley was here, at the house, almost immediately after the Dark Lord perished. I saw him in the house and tried to kill him. I missed. I had to run, hide elsewhere, 'til I knew I could come out. Merlin knows I've tried to kill that traitor a few times these last few years. Bastard must be bathing in Felix Felicis, as often as he lived through my attempts." 

"But you knew the plan, of course you would. It was your plan: To hell with Bellatrix, you said. Let her go, you said. Leave her to her fate, you said. Come here and we'll live until we could rise again, as our own Dark Lords." 

Arthur pointed his wand at the new intruder but he felt a sharp squeeze on his arm. "That's Jones," Harry breathed. Arthur flexed his arm to signal his understanding. 

Rodolphus took another step into the edge of the light, staying back just so far. 

"And the others? What about them? Were you able to help them?" Rodolphus took a step into the light. "What information do you have?" 

"I thought they'd betrayed us." His expression turned dark. "They're dead, by my wand. I killed Nott and Rookwood when they ran that day. I killed Crabbe a month later, just like we planned. I chased Zabini for months and never caught him. Sod all I couldn't get to that traitor Malfoy and his frigid bitch. Avery and Dolohov ran and I've not found them. The rest were imprisoned or disappeared, probably dead." 

Arthur pointed the wand at Rabastan and non-verbally stunned him in the back. He flew upwards and crashed into the wood ceiling support and fell in a heap to the floor. He crumpled into a pile, barely breathing, with a couple of teeth knocked out. 

Arthur turned his wand on the other Lestrange who was standing in front of him. 

"Weasley, speak to me." 

"Prove you're Jones." His voice was like tempered steel. "If not, you meet this bastard's fate." 

"Fine. I saw you in the women's locker room six hours ago." 

"I said you didn't belong in the women's changing room." He smiled. "You look pretty good as a wizard, Hemera." 

"And you're a cheeky bastard, Ron." 

Harry whipped off his cloak first, followed by two more Aurors removing their disillusionment spells. Three Arthur Weasleys populated the kitchen along with Rodolphus Lestrange. "There's only three of you? Where's the fourth?" 

"You didn't hear, did you?" Harry removed the binding from his left wrist and banished the display ropes on his ankles and right wrist. He listed his best mate's face once more and saw the brunt of the damage Lestrange inflicted on him. "Smythe tripped a caterwauling jinx and got himself noticed. Somehow his disillusionment spell broke. I don't know how, maybe a spell, perhaps? Anyway, he dueled Lestrange and he missed getting hit with a spell but the blast blew up the china hutch and shoved a candelabra through his neck. He's dead." 

Ron leaned forward and retched over Harry's boots. Harry banished the sick immediately and heard Ron dry heaving. 

"It's not your fault, Ron. I saw it happen." Harry couldn't bear to tell Ron the rest. 

"Bollocks. It's my plan, and he was my responsibility. I got him killed." Ron choked on his dry heaves. "I told him the fucker was paranoid. I told him to watch his step. Shite, I got my senior killed." 

"You're talking rubbish, Weasley." Auror Jones stepped back from Ron who was still slumped in the chair. 

"That's my senior dead in the next room!" Ron yelled from his chair. "I got my fucking senior killed and will have to face a bloody inquiry over it after I told the sod to be careful!" 

"Ron, enough," Harry asked quietly. "We know. All of us do." 

"Weasley, shut your piehole." Auror Jones glared, and it looked frightening considering she still looked like Rodolphus Lestrange. "You're not lead Auror on this hop – I am. I approved it, along with the Director. You're not responsible, you git. I am. I'll have the inquiry. You'll have a bed at St. Mungo's. Beside, you've got three witnesses who will say that you told Smythe the fiend was paranoid. Smythe heard your warning. He heard Kreacher's too. It's not your fault that he got sloppy and got exposed. Hell, he paid enough by getting a candelabra shoved through him. Why would I look to have you kicked out?" 

Ron quieted down while she paced in the front foyer, making a mess of the hair that wasn't hers. "Why are you looking like that dead brother of his? Hadn't he been dead since the day of?" 

Jones looked at her hands and the pretentious clothes she was wearing. "I didn't fancy looking like the sod but it was a change in plans. The bastard was fighting everywhere and we needed an out. He'd drop his wand if he saw me instead of more of you walking through the kitchen. It worked, didn't it, to act a diversion, and let you take him out." 

"I had a bead on him. If he tried to move or say anything towards you, he'd have been blasted off his feet." Auror Williamson kept his wand in his hand and his head on a swivel. 

"Why'd you let me take him out?" 

"How'd you manage it? Rodolphus has been dead since that day in '98." Harry blurted out. 

"Elves are obedient unless told otherwise. I reckon following Rabastan's rule of _don't touch my brother's room!_ It worked out for my benefit." Blank stares gave her the answer. "You gits! His brother's hairbrush was still on the vanity in the room. I took a chance and it worked. My vial of Polyjuice was regular strength, per Director Robards." 

Ron rubbed his throat and pulled back his fingers, covered in tacky blood. "Good thing you did that. I didn't fancy looking like Nearly Headless Nick." He fought a gag reflex, thinking about Hermione and the scar she still had. "We can't send him to the Ministry. He didn't release Mum." He looked at Auror Jones. "Bastard bragged he only kicked her out of the house after confounding her. Sod didn't bother to realize it was Harry. But if we take Mum out of the wards, she's gonna die." 

"Potter already told us. The Director knows to keep the Healer with your Mum, on the property, until I inform him in person. We aren't taking any chances, Weasley." She looked around the room at the mess around them. "First things first, though. We'll bring in the healer so we can procure the blood and get the wards on the property removed. That has to be done first." She leaned over and picked up Lestrange's wand from his hand. "Hate to check him but we need to, just to make sure he's not covered in shite." 

Auror Williamson levitated Lestrange from the floor and she meticulously removed every potion bottle on his person. "Merlin! He's got more potion bottles on him than a chemist shop." His cloak contained a dozen, at least. 

"What are these?" she asked. Two small vials came out of his sock. "Is this Veritiserum? Unlicensed possession of such is a year in Azkaban, for each vial." 

"That's where he took it from, so I'm guessing it is. He pulled the vial out and put the drops in my mouth. I know my head went barmy after he did." 

"One the curse breaker gets the wards down, you're on medical leave, effective immediately. You're off 30 days minimum, as required, pending clearance from a Healer before returning to duty. We can't risk you or your mental health on a bloody field case." 

"All the paperwork form this case will take more than 30 days to get caught up. But what about this one?" 

"We'll have him checked by Healer Smalls-Fawcett before we transport him to the Ministry. I don't want this guy out of our sight until he's handed over to the guards at the Ministry." 

Auror Jones conjured her own Patronus – a 12 hands high Shetland Pony – which cantered into existence. "Healer Fawcett-Smalls, we request your presence. Ask Kreacher to bring in the curse breaker too, since we have the suspect in custody and can obtain his blood to break the wards." 

The pony galloped through the front wall. She turned to Auror Appleby. "Is the rest of the house secure?" 

"It is but we didn't check the remainder of the grounds." 

"We'll have a team sweep it once the wards are down. We can't release it to Muggle eyes but we can seal it off under Auror authority until the case closes in the Wizengamot." 

A loud crack interrupted their discussion. Bill Weasley was standing in the foyer with Kreacher. "Kreacher brings Master Bill, as requested." 

"Is this the bloke who kidnapped Mum?" Bill looked at the incarcerated Lestrange, being held by Auror Williamson. "Damn, he looks like he's had a rough go of it." Bill stopped and looked at the others in the room. "Bloody hell, that's how you did it." 

Auror Jones stepped up to Bill. "Yeah, we had to. It was the only way to get inside the residence to infiltrate it." 

"So where's Ron? I know he didn't get sacked from the case." 

"I'm here, you prat." 

Bill looked back at the man sitting in the chair. "Shite," he groaned. "Bugger messed you up as well as I was. You look like Dad after getting his arse beat." 

Ron looked at his oldest brother and couldn't muster a grin. "Nice to see you too, old man. Get those wards down." Ron fingered his split lip. 

"It's not as simple as that, prat. I need Hermione with me to help break the wards. Once it's down, Mum's going to St. Mungo's." 

"No, she's not. There's been a bit of bother on it." Ron said quietly. 

Harry spoke over Ron. "Kreacher, can you bring Madame Hermione into the house? Master Bill needs her to break the wards." 

"Yes, sir." Kreacher apparated out with a firm _crack!_

"Damn it, Harry. I don't want Hermione seeing me like this. What were you thinking?" 

"Well, shite." Harry shrugged. "It's not like she wouldn't know either way, I reckon. I'd rather she hear it from you." 

The Healer apparated into the front hallway. "You asked for me, Auror Jones?" 

"I did. We need a blood sample from the suspect and also to check his condition. He was found with pain potions and pepper up potions on him, as well as Veritiserum on his person." She turned and waved her hand at Ron. "But he needs attention first." 

Healer Smalls-Fawcett looked and saw Ron, wearing Arthur's appearance. "Blood hell," he muttered under his breath before his face turned professional. "Are you coherent?" 

"Vaguely. He used his fists and wand on me. When the wand wasn't enough, he did worse magic on me." 

"I want you in a bed at St. Mungo's as soon as possible." The Healer ran his wand over Ron's head and neck. "You need a night or two of observation as well as restorative potions that I don't have in my kit in the tent. They have what you need there." 

"To hell with me. What about Mum? How is she?" 

"She's asleep in the tent, Ron." Harry spoke up. 

"Your brother is with her. I gave her a sleeping draught after she had fluids." The Healer answered. 

"That's not a good enough answer." 

"It's all you're getting for now," Auror Jones spoke up. "Your brother is sitting with her as well as Director Robards. She's being cared for until we get her released and she can be transported to St. Mungo's." 

Ron slouched down further into the chair. "Hermione's gonna take a bollock when she sees me." 

Kreacher apparated back in with Hermione on hand. "Kreacher said you –" Hermione froze in the foyer when she saw three Arthur Weasleys in the room but only one was brutally battered. "Shite," she growled under her breath before crossing through the gathering and knelt at his side. "He did this to you, didn't he?" She grabbed his hand and put the palm to her cheek. "Why didn't you trust me?" 

"How'd you know it was me?" He asked quietly while the others stepped into the front foyer. 

"You have a particular look you get when you see me angry," she frowned at him, "the same look you're giving me right now." 

"Yeah, I reckon so but I had to. There wasn't another option. He had to think he had Dad. I wasn't letting Dad near this barmy bastard." 

Hermione felt the tear fall down her cheek but didn't swipe at it. "But he hurt you." She ran a finger over his face and he cringed at the sting of her fingertip. "He beat you terribly." 

"I reckon he did, but we got Mum out. This," He scratched his cheek and winced from the pain, "was worth it, to have her safely out of the house." Ron turned his head and stared into the dining room. "The price was too high and someone else paid it. Smythe's dead. I got my fuckin' partner killed." 

Hermione followed Ron's gaze into the next room and saw supine boots pointed to the ceiling. She stared for a long moment. "How?" 

Harry stepped next to her and put his arm on her shoulders. "Bastard blasted a china hutch and in the explosion, a candelabra impaled him." 

"It's candelabrum, for the singular, and there's something you're not telling me." Hermione didn't break her gaze of Auror Smythe's remains. 

"Yeah. He didn't die instantly," Harry spoke up. "I witnessed it." 

Hermione turned and looked at the men in the room. The rest wouldn't pay her any attention but Ron stared at her from his battered face. 

Hermione returned her husband's intense stare, masked under the Polyjuice of her father-in-law. Entire conversations passed without a word being said. Another tear fell down her face and she quickly composed herself, all under the watchful gaze of her husband. 

Finally she turned and saw Lestrange now sitting in another chair, bound magically. "Is this him?" 

Healer Smalls-Fawcett pointed his wand and collected the blood into an oversized vial. 

"It is, and we have his blood now to drop the wards." Bill spoke up. "One more will suffice, just as a redundancy." The Healer pulled another one from a pocket and repeated the process. 

"The only problem is that he's not released Mum from her bonds. That's why she's still in the tent and not at St. Mungo's." Harry added. 

"What can we do?" Hermione inquired. 

"We, Hermione?" Auror Jones towered over Hermione while under Polyjuice as well. She didn't back down from the Senior Auror, not anymore. "We, the Aurors, need Director Robards in here. We can't force him, via Veritiserum, to talk since it's illegal except under use directed by the Wizengamot during a trial. If we did that, without his authority, Lestrange would walk free immediately, and the entire case would be thrown out. But then you know that, don't you?" Hermione nodded. "So, we need Director Robards, who is the only one with authority outside of wartime who can administer an _Imperio_ in this situation." Auror Jones gave Hermione a harsh look. "Unless you think you can communicate with our kidnapper and logically convince him to let her go, it's our only option." 

She regarded the older witch, hidden under Polyjuice, shrewdly. "I'm one term short on reading Law and I've not finished my apprenticeship yet. I'm not qualified to talk to suspects without a senior solicitor present. But then you knew that too, don't you Senior Auror Jones?" She cheeked back. 

"Your CV doesn't mean a thing to me, Granger. What matters is that we need to convince him to release Mrs. Weasley." 

The two witches held a contest of wills, neither willing to yield ground. 

"I'll send for the Director. He can _imperio_ him and we'll be finished." Auror Williamson spoke up. 

"No," Hermione stood for a moment in contemplation. "It's wrong to do it that way. Like it or not, I'm still an officer of the court and under the law, it's forbidden to use an Unforgiveable in any situation. His solicitor would have him out of custody in less than an hour." 

"Look, you've been a pain in the arse on this case, Granger, but sod all if you can get this bloke to let her go." 

"That's all you're asking?" 

"That's all I'm asking, Granger. We just need him to release the binding on Mrs. Weasley." Auror Jones stepped in front of Hermione, dropping her voice as quiet as possible. "Look, he killed an Auror, in front of another Auror. Regardless of anything else, we've got him on that. I refuse to let this bastard in there, just to keep her alive. All I need is for him to release Mrs. Weasley so she can go to St. Mungo's." 

Hermione looked at Bill and Ron and saw the slight nods from them. She didn't bother looking at Harry since she knew what he'd say. "Alright, I'll try it. I'll see what I can accomplish." 

"You sure? He's completely barmy, Hermione." Ron winced again. 

Hermione closed her eyes and focused on her task. Nothing else could distract her, not even her barely conscious husband sitting in the chair. She screwed up her courage and put on her interrogation mask, the one she was learning how to use for gain in the Ministry. "Wake him, please," she asked quietly. 

"We need to secure him first." 

"I'll wait." 

She did while Auror Jones wove protective magic over the suspect. Only his head was left unrestrained. "Now we can wake him." 

Hermione looked at the rest in the room. "Would you shift him around, where he can see Smythe when he's not looking at me?" 

"What are you playing at, Granger?" 

"I'm doing what you taught us, Auror Jones." Hermione hissed the words out, fighting the triggering memories from just a few short years past. "I'm using the situation to my advantage, one where fighting dirty is the only way to fight. If he won't look at me, he'll look at the man he killed tonight. I want to use his negative memories against him, just like you did in class." 

"And you think seeing the dead bloke on the floor will trigger him, get him to relent?" 

Hermione turned her wrist and saw the seconds ticking off. "We have an hour, thereabouts, before the Polyjuice wears off Ron, and off the rest. This also means he'll be in DT's shortly, too, from the lack of potions in his system." Hermione turned to the healer and Bill standing quietly at the back of the room. "How long can he last until the DTs turn potentially fatal?" 

"If he's downing potions that much and that fast, we have maybe 30 minutes before the delusions start. After that, we have maybe another hour before it turns critical. But I won't sacrifice his life for Mrs. Weasley, no matter what. I will not break my oath, Miss Granger. "

"Then I have 45 minutes to convince him to release Molly." 

"You're playing with Fiendfyre." 

"I owe Molly so much. I'd knit a cloak for a dragon if it'd get Mrs. Weasley freed." 

One of the other Aurors lifted Ron out of his chair and quickly removed him to the next room. Auror Jones motioned her wand to disillusion herself once again. She turned Lestrange in his chair to where he was facing the prone remains of Auror Smythe. 

"Ready?" 

Hermione pulled her wand, the bent one that only worked well when she had a loathsome duty to perform, and woke the suspect. She kept it in her hand, with her second one sheathed on her arm, and waited for him to grow aware of her presence. 

Lestrange lifted his head from his chest and took in the witch standing before him. "Do you know who I am?" 

"Yeah, I know you. You're the Mudblood strumpet who tried to kill Bellatrix. You're the pathetic one who needed two pureblood witches to help you and you still couldn't do it. You're also the whore married to the blood traitor Auror. Once I kill Molly I'm coming to kill you." 

Hermione snorted in consternation. "You amuse me, Lestrange." Hermione tapped her wand in her palm, letting him watch the cadence before his eyes. "Arthur Weasley is gone, you're incarcerated, the enchanted wards on your house are broken and you're about to go away to Azkaban for the rest of your miserable life. Imagine your life, your complete existence, without anything to dull the pain on your conscience." 

"So kill me and be done with it, you fuckstrumpet." 

"Your words are as pathetic as you are, Lestrange. Come now, dependent on pain potions and pepper-up potions to keep you alive? You'll not get another drop as long as you live." 

"I need them," He growled. "You wouldn't understand the magnitude of losing everything precious to you, would you? You're the weak, pathetic one, acting like you have a place in our world. You're nothing more than a feeble imitation of those who are your betters. You know **nothing** , nothing about traditions, power, ambition. Now where is my brother? You bring him to me now! He was just here." 

"Why pain potions, Lestrange?" 

"Fuck you, you two knut whore. Where's my brother?" 

"He's dead, by Arthur Weasley's wand." Hermione stepped aside just enough where Lestrange could see the boots lying in the dining room. "You're the pathetic one, letting your guard down. Arthur Weasley, old man himself, took you down and killed your brother. Not bad for a blood traitor, even if I say so." 

"Liar." 

"Am I, Lestrange? I'm an officer of the court. I can't lie." 

Hermione watched Lestrange try to squirm under his confinement, looking everywhere except at her and his victim. She knew she was pressed for time, for Ron, for Molly, and for Lestrange as well. It was a race – one she wasn't confident she could win. 

Lestrange finally turned his attention back at her, scowling under his sallow yet haughty expression. "You're nothing more than a paper pushing bureaucrat, making hardship for your betters and interfering on our way of life. You are not worthy to walk where my parents made their mark on society. You're a jumped up trollop who thinks she's making a difference when the only place you should be is behind closed doors, locked away from society, and shutting the fuck up. You're nothing in our world – nothing!" 

"Oh come now, Lestrange. Your words are impotent and pedantic." 

"And you're a sodding Mudblood who is only still alive because I've not killed you yet." 

"Is that a threat, Lestrange?" 

"Not a threat, but a promise: I will spill your filthy blood and not even breathe hard." 

Hermione stepped up to Lestrange and bent down and looked him in the eyes. She took the crooked wand in her hands and ran it across his jaw and back across his throat. "Funny, that you call me weak with your trite accusations. Lesser men and women, ones you hold in high regard, have died by my wand for weaker insults." Hermione took a step back and let him see the fire in her eyes. "I had no qualms setting a teacher on fire when I was 12. I've had no qualms in years using magic to protect those I love. So if you think I don't have the courage or resolve to finish you, that is one bet you would be wise to not make." 

"You couldn't make me an egg sandwich, witch. Not like I'd eat it, coming from your filthy hands." 

Hermione stepped further back and looked just over his shoulder. She could see the faint shimmer of the disillusionment charm draped over Auror Smith's form. She also saw the three others in the room as well. 

"Pity you've not completed your bargain with Weasley. Then again, what good would it do to charge you with murder when you've already been previously convicted for murder and other unspeakable acts against others in your pathetic life?" 

"What's one more death on my head, when they are nothing more than blood traitors? Molly Weasley won't make me sleep at night." Lestrange tried to look away from the boots in the next room. 

"You know what I think, Lestrange? I think you are so hell-bent on revenge that death would be welcome to you." Hermione stepped back but stayed upright, making him choose between looking at her and Smythe's remains, which he still thought was his brother. "I think the worst punishment for you would be letting you live out the rest of your pathetic existence in an eight by eight cell in Azkaban, with no contact with anyone else except the guards. You wouldn't even get the benefit of a Dementor's Kiss. No, you'd live, day after day, knowing that you'd never escape those dark and dreary walls." 

"I've escaped before. I'll do it again. Unless I'm dead, you'll never be safe." 

Hermione chuckled. "You really think you can escape again? That's funny, barmy, even." 

Lestrange rattled around his head, trying to shake off the bindings set upon him in the chair. "I'm not crazy, you wench." 

"Oh, I think you're completely touched. See, the last time there was a mass breakout from Azkaban, a prison guard was the one who smuggled a wand into the prison, and given to Bellatrix. Suffice to say, she killed him as soon as a wand was in her hand. So, in light of that situation, and reviewing the reports for the Minister, there is absolutely no way you will receive a wand in the prison ever again. You, once you are sent there, will perish after a completely long life, away from everything that could potentially offer you a chance to escape. You won't even have the luxury of death, since the Wizengamot outlawed sending people through the veil back in 1999. No, you get the comfort of knowing you will live a natural life and an even more natural death." 

Lestrange turned his attention from the prone form in the next room to Hermione standing over him. "Then it sounds like I'm fucked either way, so I'll still have my revenge. Molly Weasley will be dead and I'll have some payback for that sod Weasley. I won't kill him but the one he loves the most." 

Lestrange fell over, silently stunned by Auror Jones. "You tried, Granger." 

Hermione ran her hand through her unkempt hair. "What a twisted man. I couldn't think of really anything to get him to relent. How can you negotiate with a murdered who isn't afraid to die?" 

"Granger?" 

She turned and saw an Arthur standing in the doorway. This one wasn't beat up so it wasn't her beloved Ron. "Healer Smalls-Fawcett is finishing up with Ron but he had an idea. Since the cad is passed out, let us see what we can offer up." 

"He's refusing to budge on getting the bond released. I tried logic and it certainly didn't work." 

"So let's try something else since we're running short on time." Ron stepped back into the room, wobbling on timid steps. He saw the worry on her face and shook off her silent question. "I'll manage 'til I get to St. Mungo's. The Healer gave me something to cope 'til then." Ron stepped up to Auror Jones. 

Another Arthur levitated the remains of Auror Smythe and took him out of view. "I'll take him out to the Healer's tent since I seem to be in the way." 

Everyone stood stock still while they watched Auror Williamson remove Smythe. "He's a good bloke." 

Harry laid a hand on Ron's shoulder. "Yeah, good Auror too. Who'd think the sod'd lay a trap in the threshold between the dining room and the lounge?" 

Ron turned to Harry and he pulled a face. "A sod that is completely paranoid and touched in the head. But I think I might be able to come up with something." 

"What's rattling in your head, Weasley?" Auror Jones removed the disillusionment from her body and Ron tried to remember who was under the layer of Polyjuice. 

"There's a Muggle tale that Hermione made me read once." 

Hermione crossed her arms in a show of disagreement. "I don't make you read anything, Ron." 

He turned back to her and smirked. It looked rather strange, showing on a battered Arthur Weasley's face. He was battered and bruised, but Ron Weasley showed through his father's features, namely the mirth he loved to share with others. "You did that one Christmas when you were sick. Muggle writer, but the bloke had a good idea. I kept reading after you fell asleep." 

Hermione looked befuddled for a moment before her eyes lit up completely. "Oh Ron, that's completely brilliant." 

"It happens," and he shrugged. "Maybe we can scare this sod into giving us what we want. Why not give it a go, I reckon?" 

"Maybe you'll get there with him where I failed." 

"You didn't fail," Ron squeezed her hand to show his affection in front of others, "but I think I've got a way in that you didn't. It's what they pay me the huge galleons for." 

Hermione put her wand over her head and slowly disappeared from view. "I'm waiting and watching." 

"The moment he releases that bond, you go with Charlie to St. Mungo's. I'll be along shortly thereafter." 

"I need to stay with you." 

"And I need you to be there, with Charlie, to help Mum and protect them both. Please, just do it." 

Ron couldn't see his wife but from the silence from where she had been standing was as good as shouting agreement. One faint pop told him she'd left the house. 

"Alright, let's do this. Harry, you know what to do." 

Harry threw his invisibility cloak over his shoulders and cast a disillusionment charm once again. 

Ron pulled his wand and woke Lestrange. Seconds ticked away before the confined kidnapper lifted his head again. 

"Lestrange, funny I'm here to meet you." 

The haughty wizard looked higher and higher until he pulled a face, seeing Arthur Weasley. 

"Welcome to Purgatory."


	15. By Magic, Ancient and Powerful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Aurors are playing a deadly game to get Lestrange to relent his hold over the Weasley family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** My thanks to the follows, favorites, and reviews. It's all appreciated. Also, still not Jo and doubt I ever will be. - _DG_

* * *

"Welcome to Purgatory," Arthur spoke first. 

"Where the hell is my brother?" 

"Oh, he's already gone on. My brother shoved him through the black veil." 

"Black veil?" 

"Why yes? Not everyone goes _on_. Some don't go on at all, but go through the black veil." 

"Don't talk that mess. Where is he?" Arthur could only shake his head in resignation. "He was here earlier. I saw him, spoke with him, saw him with my two own eyes!" 

"I hate to tell you, but he's _gone_ ," Arthur put more emphasis on the word gone. "He went through the veil, kicking and screaming worse than any toddler I ever raised." 

"But why him? My brother was the best bloke I ever knew." Arthur watched him waver in his seat. "I loved my brother more than anyone else. Not even his marriage to that barmy strumpet Bellatrix Black could come between us." 

"I dunno. I'm just here with a duty then I can go on through the bright veil." 

"Duty?" Lestrange wobbled in his seat slightly. "Damn. My head feels wonky." 

"Well, yeah. Got a bloke here who I can't even see who is supposed to show you the choice you are facing. Your decision means either going through the black veil – or the bright one." Arthur shrugged in resignation. "I'm supposed to help, somehow." 

"You mean I'm dead?" 

"Guess so. Last thing I remember is touching the front door of that rat trap cottage called a house and then I was standing in my kitchen at home, my dead son talking to me. Rather mad if you ask me." Arthur lifted him up out of the chair and put a hand on the bloke. "You've got a choice to make, and I don't want to dawdle. My boy Fred's awaiting." 

Arthur put his hand on Lestrange's arm and apparated the other wizard with him. They landed right inside the medic's tent. The Healer was there, tending Molly on the cot who was still passed out from her ordeal. 

Director Robards as well as Healer Smalls-Fawcett ignored the two men who popped into the tent. The Healer looked worse for wear after the time inside the house, just like Ron had suggested. 

"Director, I don't know how we can save her. He told Granger that he's not gonna let her go, and I can't do a bloody thing about it. Another hour and the binding is going to crush her heart to death. She won't feel a thing but I'm not going to stand here impotent to the dark magic covering her." 

"It's not like I can torture him. Sod died when he fell and hit his face on the ground." 

Rabastan wiggled his nose and felt his jaw. 

"Weasley too, after stepping on that magical trap at the front door. I'm sure Granger will face an inquiry since the suspect died under her interrogation. But she warned him, so I was told, and he didn't listen. Minister is going to have my head on a pike when he hears that both Weasleys perished, along with both Lestranges. He's going to take my bollocks too when he finds out Granger went mad and tortured him to death. 

"I'm sure the Wizengamot will want his head on a spike too." 

"But there's gotta be something to save her. She was innocent. She saved lives when Hogwarts was burning. She was tending kids when the ceiling was failing." The Healer rubbed his head again, mussing his hair like another wizard he went to Hogwarts with used to do. "And you expect me to stand here and watch her die, and not do a damn thing about it?" 

"Nothing I can do, Healer," Director Robards said dramatically. "Sod's dead. Weasley is dead. You think I want to contact the rest of the family and tell them that both their parents are dead, because Lestrange held Weasley responsible for his brother's death? That he and his brother were responsible for more carnage to Purebloods than Voldemort ever inflicted? That he killed Molly because he wasn't satisfied with Arthur's death?" 

"I swear if either Lestrange were still alive, I'd strangle them with my bare hands. I'd send his arse through that black veil and watch his family name disappear forever." The Healer put his head down and quietly sobbed. "No amount of money will heal this wound, no sir." 

"What are you on about, Phillip?" 

"I saw Weasley that night, in the school. I was running into the Hospital wing, to take over for medi-witch. I turned and saw Weasley hit Lestrange with the spell, but it didn't kill him." The Healer strangled a sob before putting his head into his hands. "I was in the shadows and heard Lestrange still breathing, still begging for Merlin to save him." The Healer looked up at the Director, shadows under his eyes. "I killed the acromantula. I killed him and then killed Lestrange, because I wasn't fast enough to kill them both at the same time." The Healer put his head down. "All this bullshit is my fault, all 'cause I was too much of a coward to try and save him, all because he was a Death Eater. No, I'm a coward because I failed my duty to first, to do no harm. All these lives at my feet, tearing my soul, because I was in a hurry and picked who I thought was more worthy of my efforts." 

"Rabastan, let's go." Arthur pulled on his sleeve. 

"No, wait. If you're dead, and I'm dead, but I can still change things, can we?" A malevolent glee etched into his face. 

"Can you what?" 

"I want to kill that bastard. You heard him. He killed my brother. I will have my vengeance." 

"You're too late to hurt him. You can only choose to save Molly's life. That's the choice you have to make, and whether you will heal your soul some." 

"No, damn it." Lestrange pointed at the Healer who was ignoring him. "I need a fucking wand so I can torment that bastard. I want to strip him of his clothes, confound him, then twirl him in the air, then send him running. I want to chase his arse down, just like we did with those barmy sods, the Prewett brothers." 

Arthur looked at the wizard next to him. "What did you say, Lestrange?" 

"I said I want them as naked as the day they were born, confound him, and then hunt him down like I'm hunting hippogriffs. It's just like I did with Dolohov and Avery and Rodolphus and Rookwood, chasing those slimy shits the Prewett brothers. That was a fun night, chasing them before we cornered them. Sods put up a fight but we still took them out. I want to hunt this jumped up Mudblood like I did those two, that night." 

Arthur stood quiet. "You helped murder M- Molly's brothers?" 

"Fuck Little Molly. She can die for all I care. I want that asshole there. I want his blood spilled for killing my brother." 

Arthur glanced over at Harry under the cloak and gave him a stern look. Harry reached over and tugged Lestrange's sleeve once. Arthur looked the blank space behind Lestrange for a long moment. "I understand." He turned to the wizard next to him. "He says that it's either Molly or you're going through the black veil, now." 

"That's the only choice I get to make? That's fucked up. I want to kill him," Lestrange flung his hand at the other two wizards on the other side of the tent. 

Harry tugged Lestrange's sleeve twice, harder. 

"Well, shite, he's certainly insistent, isn't he? Well, I'm not leaving 'til I get to take a wand to that murderer over there. Throw me through the black veil 'cause I'm not leaving until I kill him." 

"You don't get that choice, Rabastan." Arthur saw Lestrange wobble on his feet and his expression change ever so slightly. "It's either Molly or going through the black veil." 

"You mean I can't kill him, only save her?" he said, almost imitating Luna's detached voice. 

"If you save Molly's life, by releasing her bonds, you'll go on, through the bright veil. If you refuse to help her, by releasing her binding, you'll be shoved through the black one." 

Lestrange's features grew dark again. "But my brother –"

"Rodolphus is beyond saving. There's absolutely nothing you can do for him. No, this is about you." Arthur stood, looking completely relaxed, almost bored with the situation. 

Rabastan stood stock still and watched the floating monitor above Molly Weasley's head, ticking. "So if what the Healer said is true, you didn't kill my brother. That sod there did." 

"Yeah, he did. I missed, and hit the acromantula. The bugger was tougher than I ever imagined. I hit the thing with a killing curse and didn't stop him." 

"Shite," Lestrange said quietly. "I've been mad at the wrong people for too long." He looked over the scene before him. "But you two were still blood traitors." 

"Not like we had much choice. Voldemort had my parents executed back in '77. And now I find out that you, your brother, and Dolohov, murdered Molly's brothers. There was no choice left at that point, frankly. But then, five on two was a particularly unfair fight. What else could we do but fight back?" 

"You mean Rodolphus started this blood debt feud, and you were fighting back?" 

"Of course we did. Both of our families were on the Sacred 28, too. But we let the law handle our grievance, not taking out a Blood feud and calling in the debt like the previous century." 

Rabastan put his head down between his hands. "This is so damn confusing. Rodolphus would know what to do." 

"It's too late for him. This is your choice, Rabastan." 

Harry reached over through the cloak and tugged on Rabastan's sleeve. "The specter of Death doesn't like to be kept waiting. It seems that it's time for you to make that choice." 

Rabastan looked around and didn't see anyone besides the hard-beaten Arthur Weasley standing next to him. "Where is he? I can't see him." 

"And you won't, not until you make the choice. I saw what he did to Rodolphus. It was a rather ugly sight." 

"You mean _"

"You grew up on the tales. You know the stories. But they were scrubbed so kids would read them." Arthur took a melodramatic sigh. "I watched him drag your brother, kicking and screaming for mercy, towards the dark veil. He begged for mercy from a deity he didn't believe in, just so he wouldn't be shoved through." Arthur shook his head. "It didn't work. He was tormented worse than if a flock of Dementors descended on him. The screams echoed for seconds, until it was silence once again." 

"Why did you witness it?" 

"That was my burden to bear. Since I killed him, I had to watch his eternal demise. Rather frightening, really, which is why I am here, trying to convince you to make a better decision. I don't want to watch that again." 

"What do you get out of it?" 

"I get a bright veil and seeing my son again." Arthur smiled wistfully. 

"So you're offering me a lifetime away from my brother – "

"I doubt that you'd see him anyway, going through the black veil. But then I don't know. It's an adventure I don't want to take." 

"Or I can see my family again, the other ones. She won't be there, will she?" 

"She who?" 

"Bellatrix. It's all her fault for this shite. She went and fell for that sodding fuck Voldemort and cocked up everything." 

"I dunno, but I don't think she got a bright veil for what she did in her life." 

"Fucking strumpet," Rabastan muttered, "stepped between me and Rodolphus." The haggard wizard looked Arthur up and down again. "Sorry about that," He pointed at his face. 

"It'll heal. But you've still got that choice to make." 

"So if I release her, we get to go _on_ and she keeps living. That's rubbish." 

"Not really. Living is hard work. Living without me's gonna cut her heart out. She already buried her parents, her brothers, and one of her sons. Throw me into it and she'll probably be dead in a year." 

"So letting her live would hurt her more?" 

"Yeah, probably so. We've been bonded over 30 years. She was my soul mate. I think losing me would tear her heart in half." 

Rabastan had a malevolent gleam in his eye. "Sounds 'bout right. Hand me a wand, would you? Not like I care where I end up, as long as I get to hurt her too. She's still a blood traitor in my book. That's gotta count for something, I reckon." 

Arthur looked over Rabastan's head at where he was guessing Harry was standing. He gave a hard look his way and prayed Harry understood what he was trying to convey. 

He did as asked, handing over the wand and praying that the other disillusioned Aurors, along with Charlie and Hermione, could protect Mum. It was a risk they had to take, to free Mum. 

He watched Lestrange's wand and saw him performing the difficult hand movements, along with speaking the words softly under his breath. He stifled the reaction that Lestrange was doing such so casually, and with such ease, that it obviously wasn't the first time he'd performed it. 

One final movement and word triggered recognition. He understood a particular word used and only recalled it from the mandatory history lessons he learned in the Aurors. Hermione probably recognized the counter-curse and understood what magic he used on Mum. Only she found _History of Dark Magic_ to be a potentially interesting course of study to research. 

"There, it's done. Hope the witch cries a lifetime of tears in that year. It might make up for everyone turning their wand against my brother." Lestrange turned towards Arthur and smiled, showing the missing teeth in his mouth. "It serves the witch, breeding out more sodding blood traitors. But damn, I hate that I missed killing that harlot of a daughter." 

Rabastan slumped to the ground. Harry emerged from under his Invisibility cloak, shaking and covered in sweat. "Ron, dunno how you did it, but you did it. I'd have strangled him with my bare hands." The other Aurors appeared from their disillusionment, forming a protective ring around Molly. They all stared at the piled of Lestrange at Ron's feet. 

"She's clear." Ron pointed at his now appeared brother and the Healer standing next to him. "Get Mum out of here, now!" Ron put his wand and hand behind his back, trying to hide from Hermione's inquisitive eyes that the potions were wearing off – fast. 

Hermione removed the disillusionment spell from her while the other three were preparing to leave via Portkey. The Healer put a Portkey on top of Molly, cot and all, and the three of them disappeared with a flourish. 

Ron turned back to the revenant at his feet. "I wanted to strangle him myself." Ron lifted his head and saw Harry pulling a face. "How was my acting? Convincing enough for him?" 

"It worked, didn't it? You got him to release her." 

"Ron," Hermione kept her distance, next to where the cot was. "how are you still standing?" 

Ron pulled his own face. "I'm not," and he collapsed at Harry's feet, crashing into one of the additional tables in the tent. 

"RON!" 

Harry reacted too slow, and couldn't catch Ron before he fell onto the cold ground. Hermione was there an instant later, moving his head onto her lap. "Oh God, Ron!" 

"Potter, what happened?" Robards and Jones came over. 

"Bastard must have worked him over harder than we realized. He collapsed moments after I stunned Lestrange." 

The director picked up one of the Healer's books and put it on Ron's chest. He pointed his wand at it, muttering _Portus_ and took his hand off of it. 

"Sod the Healer leaving with Molly. It's set for 10 seconds, as an emergency Portkey, for the landing zone at St. Mungo's." 

"Hold on tight, Hermione." 

Hermione crossed her arms around Ron's head and neck, wrapping his arms through hers before gripping the book tightly over his chest. Harry maneuvered his long legs into his arms, praying that the landing wouldn't break his best friend. With one hand on the book and the other on Ron's hip, they spun away in a swirl, on their way to St. Mungo's. 

Seconds later, they popped into the landing room at St. Mungo's, making a very hard landing. Hermione held on to his head, neck, and shoulders, landing hard on her bum. Harry groaned from hitting his knees on the floor while trying to help protect Ron's unconscious body. 

"Auror Emergency," he bellowed into the medi-witch's station. "Auror Emergency!" 

Two medi-witches ran out of the double doors and assessed the situation: one older man down, who looked considerably worse for wear; Harry Potter, kneeling at the older man's knees, bellowing at the top of his lungs; and Hermione Granger, sitting on the ground with the older man's head in her lap, holding a Healer's manual in her hands. 

"Name?" the first witch asked. 

"Auror Ron Weasley. He's under Auror grade Polyjuice. He was undercover on the rescue operation and was badly beaten by the suspect. The Healer who came in with Molly Weasley gave him potions but he passed out right after the Healer came in with Mrs. Weasley." 

One medi-witch took a board off the wall, and transformed it into a magical gurney. They worked silently and efficiently, rolling him off Harry and Hermione. Once he was secured to the magical gurney they stood from the floor. "We'll take it from here," the older witch spoke solemnly. Harry and Hermione watched them take from back into the Emergency department. 

The double doors closed with a reverberating thud. 

Harry stood up gingerly from the floor. His knees ached horribly from landing on the magically cushioned tile in the landing area. He looked around at the sterile walls and realized he needed to check in. He pulled his wand from the holster on his arm and watched Prongs pop into existence. 

"We're here at St. Mungo's. Mrs. Weasley is back, along with Auror Weasley. I will report in once we know more information." Prongs pawed at the tiles once before bouncing off through the wall. 

A loud sniff from his left betrayed Hermione. Harry turned and saw her frantically wiping her face. Harry looked away from her so she could have time to recompose her features. 

"Where's Charlie?" she quietly inquired. "Didn't he come in before us?" 

Harry glanced her way and saw her arising from the floor on her knees, trying not to laugh that she was rubbing her bum from the hard landing. 

"I'm right behind you," he grunted. They both turned and saw him sitting stiffly in one of the ancient chairs in the waiting room. "I bloody well hurt. Mum weights a bunch of stones and she was harder to maneuver than a juvenile dragon. It's a wonder I'm still breathing." 

Harry wobbled first into the waiting room and took a very tentative seat across from Charlie. "Damn that was a hard landing. They need to upgrade the cushioning charms in the emergency arrivals area." 

Hermione stood in the hallway and shuddered for a moment. The men watched her face shift through the emotions before wiping her hand across her face. She looked up and saw them regarding her solemnly. 

"Where are you hurting?" She refused to sit down with them, pacing between them in the five stride wide waiting room. 

"Everywhere, I reckon." He grunted when he flexed his arm out, wincing under the resultant pain. "I had to carry Mum across that bloody marshland to the Auror tent. It took all I had to keep from falling with her over my shoulder. Feel like my knees are still filled with jam." 

"Do you need a pain potion? If we ask a medi-witch for one, I'm sure you can get it." 

"I've hurt myself worse walking across the garden at home. I'll be fine once I get some sleep." 

Hermione paced again, finding some measure of solace in the short walk between the plastic chairs. 

"Charlie?" 

"Yeah, Hermione?" 

"Thank you," she said quietly. "You were terrific, I bet." 

"No, you were. For all that was cocked up, there was plenty that did go right. Between all the hours of research you did, and my idea to keep Harry from using additional magic on her, kept her alive, probably. But had we let Kreacher use magic on her, it might have hurt her worse. We'd have been buggered if I hadn't carried her out." Hermione turned, along with Harry, to look at him. "Lestrange had another bloody curse on her. Bastard _imperio_ 'd her." 

Charlie stood up and stalked through the room and back before sitting back down hard in the plastic chair. The others sat gobsmacked. 

"That's why she turned into a banshee when I touched her. My touch triggered the reaction. The Healer said that particular spell order, the bonding then the _Imperio_ would keep any many from touching her, not without traumatic consequences. The _Imperio_ , with instructions not to be touched by _any male_ would trigger the reaction. So I asked him why. 

"He said that he was guessing, but his educated guess was that he wanted to leave her as a weapon, should she be rescued, and then she'd cause even more havoc. Wouldn't it be terrible if she murdered her own children, in a fit of rage?" Charlie shuddered at the implications. "Had it been the day before, when she wasn't exhausted and dehydrated, she might have hurt you and me much worse. When I brought her in, the healer checked everything possible on her, including bad magic, all while being careful not to touch her. He used Hermione's extensive notes and checked her over three times, having Director Robards assist him. That's how he found that she'd been _Imperio'_ d.” 

Harry looked at Hermione and shuddered too. 

"You'd have been amazed, Hermione. He was being so careful, making sure of every single thing he could have put on her. He even checked tickling charms and other innocuous spells." 

"Did he get it off her, the binding?" 

"No, he couldn't. They even brought Bill in to assist. Kreacher said she couldn't talk to him. But I guess she broke it when I touched her, way she was yelling at us. He removed the _Imperio_ easily enough, I reckon. But the information you gave him," He looked rather upset at what he was going to say, "regarding the binding wasn't the one he used. The Healer used every single counter-curse you gave him and nothing worked. Director Robards tried and they even asked Bill, too. Nothing worked. That's why they needed him to do it, to convince him to remove it himself." 

Charlie looked at Hermione. "Sorry, sister of mine, but you did all that research for naught. You did save him hours, trying out stuff that wouldn't work, though. Merlin, between all that, it's a wonder that Mum hadn't died yet." Charlie took a deep breath and leaned far back in his chair, looking at the pock tiled ceiling. "There's no telling what the curse would have done to Mum had we let Kreacher touch her." 

"Narcissa was right," Harry muttered under his breath. "And Ron was right, too. He said Lestrange would do something like that, that we shouldn't trust what the sod said." Harry ran his hands through his hair before tugging his neck down. A loud _pop_ echoed in the tiny waiting room. "Ron said that Lestrange was paranoid enough to think we'd try something. He said that's why we had to do what we did, going as Mum and Dad under Polyjuice. He said that it was the only way we could get away with it. 

Overwhelming force wouldn't work. No, we had to impersonate and try to get away with it." 

"Bloody crazy idea of a rescue, you realize," Charlie huffed. "Bloody wonder it worked." 

Harry ignored Charlie's comments to look at Hermione. Her face was growing angry by the second. 

"I offered to go as Arthur, but Ron wouldn't hear of it. He said," Harry choked up for a second before continuing, "he said that as much as I love Mum and Dad, I couldn't answer the questions if Lestrange asked them. I didn't know enough family history of Mum and Dad to pass as him. The cover would be blown if I was Arthur for this mission." He looked at Hermione and saw the rage on her face. "That's why Ron went in and went through it. That's why I went as Mum, even with all the problems we had." 

"You," she hissed. "You let him go through this, knowing he'd be hurt. You promised me he wouldn't be hurt." She wiped her eyes again. "You broke your promise to me. How could you?" she ended in a wailing shriek. She buried her head in her hands. 

Harry knelt down in front of his sister, giving Charlie a particularly shrewd look. Charlie wisely let Harry take the lead. 

"I had to. Ron made me promise him. What would you have me do? Your promise completely conflicted with his. I promised Ron I'd be there, right beside him, so he'd be protected. I didn't expect Lestrange to douse me in Veritiserum while I was polyjuiced. I sure as hell didn't expect to be gone twelve minutes from Ron's side. The idea was for me to apparate back into the house, get my ruck from the room, take the antidote, change back, and bring in the other Aurors. That was _our_ plan, and Lestrange mucked it up by dosing me in Veritiserum." 

"He hurt Ron that bad in twelve minutes?" 

"Yeah, close enough. We didn't plan that the sod would feed me a vial of Veritiserum. I certainly didn't anticipate that the git would confound me too. That's why I wandered around the property 'til I got my head on straight." 

"Harry," she groaned. 

"So I had to get the antidote to it and the Polyjuice potion. That's why it took so long." Harry ran his hands through his hair while Charlie snorted. "Look, if I'd gone back in here, while I still looked like Mum, I'd have gotten both of us killed, alright? I had to get changed back into my own skin, so I'd fight him as myself, not as mum. That's why it took so long." 

"Do you know what happened to him?" 

"Hermione, I don't know. I wasn't in the house for twelve minutes. Then I was busy until everything went sideways. I dunno what happened to him, not 'til the Healer tells us." Harry looked up from her hands and the exhaustion was evident. "I dunno what happened while I was out of the house. Ron didn't say and the Healer was too busy digging in his med kit for potions for Ron. I just don't know what happened or how bad he was treated." 

"But Harry, I watched him pass out." 

"I know that," he said sternly. "But I don't know what the sod did to him, alright? Don't ask me 'cause I don't know, and we won't know 'til we ask Ron or the Healer what happened." Harry kept Hermione's hands in his but kept his attention on Charlie. If he looked at his best friend, he'd lose it and he couldn't do it, not here. He could break later, once he was away from the hospital. 

"This is too much," Hermione muttered. She stood up and started pacing the room. "Charlie, what about Mum?" 

"There's not much to say. We arrived via Portkey and the Healer took her back immediately. I think they were already on standby when we arrived. I've not heard anything either, especially since it's only been about three minutes longer since you arrived." 

Harry pulled his wand and thought of Ginny and saw his stag pop into existence. "Dad, it's Harry. We got Mum out. Come to St. Mungo's." 

Harry watched Prongs disappear through the wall. Prongs didn't have far to go, just to the Ministry where Dad was staying with Kingsley. 

"Harry, you didn't mention Ron." 

Harry looked up at Hermione. She was still pacing the small room. "No, Dad's got enough to worry about, with Mum and all. He'll find out once he gets here." 

Hermione stopped and looked at her brother. "Did you ever send word to Ginny about this?" 

Harry imitated Hermione, rolling his eyes distinctively. "When the hell have I had time to let her know? Ron and I have been arse deep in this mess. I'll just have to let her know once Mum's awake." 

"She's going to be mad as fire you didn't tell her." 

"You mean like you were, and you were helping the entire time?" 

"Yes, well, that's different." 

"Weasley family?" 

The three of them turned their heads at the Auror Healer who had been on hand to help. He looked tired, frazzled, and just plain exhausted. "Healer Smalls-Fawcett." 

"We know, sir. How is she?" Charlie spoke up first. 

"You mean your Mum? I have this brilliant witch to thank for so much." He pointed impolitely at Hermione. "It saved us tons of time, knowing what to use or, in this case, what wouldn't work. That was about three hours of time. But her diligence helped so I checked everything I could. I removed what I was able to do, and with our little display back there, she's free of the magic he put on her. It's just epic fortune that she wasn't dead by the time we did get to her. Another day and she'd have perished." 

"Sir?" The three of them spoke up. 

"Well, it seems the kidnapper wasn't wholly honest. He put a binding on her, as well as an Imperio. She broke the silencing spell herself, but it left tatters. She was, speaking candidly, a magical mess. You put an _Imperio_ on top of a binding and she'd have lost her mind had I not taken that one off first. If she'd been touched anymore with magic, like a spell cast on her, I can't guarantee she'd be alive now." 

Charlie looked at the other two and nodded emphatically. Harry rolled his eyes and turned back to the exhausted healer before him. "Did the sod put anything else on her?" 

"Those three were enough. But it was Granger's diligence that had me checking for an _Imperio_ in the first place. I got that off of her, but your brother Bill and I couldn't remove the binding. We needed Lestrange, sadly. Ms. Granger, as useful as her research was, was also futile. He bound Mrs. Weasley with family magic, that which hadn't been shared, giving him complete control. Granger's research eliminated hours of guesswork, by giving me the spells that didn't work. Her research was a boon. 

"I'm going to give all of her research, and my additional notes, to someone in the Department of Mysteries. They'll hopefully assist us so this doesn't happen again." 

The Healer sat down in another chair and pulled his wand out. The small gathering watching perform a wordless spell and parchment appeared in his hands, along with a second non-verbal spell making tea appear on the side table. "Medically, she's fine, apart from the dehydration and the lack of meals for two plus days. A week of meals and tea will remedy that. Mentally and emotionally, it's going to take a few days to a few weeks for her to possibly recover." 

"Possibly?" Harry retorted. "You mean you don't know yet?" 

"But you're a Healer!" Charlie exclaimed. 

"I'm a Healer and the best one in here when it comes to War injuries. What she endured at the hands of that madman was horrible, something that most people don't live through. Imagine being tortured and then trying to recover." 

Harry spared a look for Hermione and she kept her face stoic. 

"Legally, what she was put through, with the _Imperio_ and injuries suffered, constitutes war injuries. Any patient who comes through our doors, who had _Imperio_ inflicted onto them, is a special case. As you can imagine, we've had hundreds come in during the War and afterwards. But this is a more complicated case, because of the binding. 

"I've had researchers downstairs going through the records ever since I received the notice from the Director a day and a half ago. Do you know how long it's been since a witch had conflicting bonds laid on her? It's not happened since the early 1920's and even then, it had been fifty years before that." The healer took a sip and looked at the others. "The records are spotty at best, but the last one, with the particular additional enchantment put on her, might have broken her mind. I just can't say for certain until we wake her up." 

"Shite," Charlie muttered under his breath. "Bastard's lucky that he's in custody. But what can we do about it?" 

"Exactly my point. It's not happened in almost a century, simply because of the changing mores of the times. Pureblood men would bond a woman without consent, and realize what happened and duel one another over it. Unfortunately, killing the other suitor normally left the woman, for all intents and purposes, completely mad. She was alive, but it wasn't a life. Since the damage was done, the marriage went ahead. She'd bear him a child, for marriage purposes, then be shunted here while the child was raised in polite society by various governesses or nannies until time to attend Hogwarts." The healer coughed at the monstrosity he just described. "The woman was destroyed and the man was viewed as a dutiful husband and father, all the while having his mistress or two on the side. It really was a pathetic bargain, for Pureblood women. I'm personally glad traditions changed since then. You just don't treat women that way, not and expect to be respected." 

"How do you know so much of this, Healer Smalls-Fawcett?" Hermione asked candidly. 

The Healer stood and made his way towards the door. "I know because it happened in my family, too. The case from the 20s was my great-grandfather's first wife." He sighed. "My great-grandfather killed the other suitor, one of the Selwyn's, so I'm told, and dutifully took care of her until she died three years later. He remarried eventually, marrying my Great-grandmother." 

"Is that why you are on the case?" 

"I was assigned the case, but I'm also helping because of the circumstances. Anyway, once I know more, you'll know it too." 

"Can we see her? Can we go see Mum?" 

"She's not awake since I have her dosed on strong potions, to let her rest from the ordeal. But we'll start weaning her off of them later to ascertain her mental state. So, for right now, no more than two of you need to be in there, just because of how small the room is. 

The Healer made his way to the doorway. 

"I hope, for her sake, that she's strong enough to overcome what happened. Many perished during the war because they couldn't cope with the resulting carnage." 

Healer Smalls-Fawcett left the small waiting room. 

"This entire thing is completely fucked up." Charlie groaned from stretching his back out. 

"I completely share your sentiments." Hermione started pacing again. 

"Family for Auror Weasley?" 

The three of them looked at the doorway to see a younger healer, looking rather tired yet aloof. "You the family?" he said with a touch of disdain. 

"I'm his wife, his brother in law, and his brother." 

"Auror Weasley will live," the healer said bluntly. 

"What happened?" 

"His case is complicated. But he'll be well in a few days and recover in about a week." He turned to leave. 

"Healer, stop." Harry's voice echoed into the hallway. 

The healer did as asked and regarded the three of them dispassionately. "What is it, Auror? I have six other patients to tend to this evening." 

"What happened to him? And spare us the convoluted ' _complicated_ ' 'cause we're not idiots." Hermione gave the healer a nasty look. "I want a better answer than _he'll recover in a few days._ That explanation is rubbish." 

The Healer huffed. "Fine. Auror Weasley took a beating, both magical and physical. Once he was remedied from the Polyjuice we could tend to his injuries. First off, he had a broken orbital bone in his face, from repeated blunt trauma to his face. Secondly, he was suffering the effects of the _Cruciatus_ curse." 

Hermione released a breath from her chest she didn't know she was holding. "No wonder why he looked so terrible," she spoke under her breath. "Why didn't he say there was something else wrong?" Hermione stifled the rest of her reaction. "Harry, did he – "

"Third, his nose was shattered but we completely repaired. The Healer did an adequate job but we fixed his work. Fourth, he had a broken zygomatic bone in his face, from being punched repeatedly. We're short on Skele-gro right now because of an incident down in York, but once we have another bottle we'll dose him on it. But the worst thing was the brain bruise he suffered while in custody." 

"Brain bruise?" 

"Yes, a brain bruise. When you repeatedly hit someone, like he seemed to appear, the brain bounces inside the skull. If you bounce it hard enough, it get bruised." The healer checked his chart. "We'd treat him with a particular potion, which would fix him up immediately, but his charts say that Auror Weasley is allergic to it, so we're having to give him a different one, one which takes a couple of days longer to get him sorted. We've treated Aurors from their training but this was ten times worse than a training mission. He'll need to be off duty for a couple of weeks." 

"He means a concussion, Hermione." 

A wet sob alerted the others to Hermione in the corner. She was sitting in the far chair, sobbing to herself. "Harry, he was cruciated! Why him?" 

Harry got up to console her. Charlie spoke up instead. "Healer, I thought under Polyjuice, the damage would be lessened once he was changed back. Why was he so injured, when he didn't look that bad?" 

"Skin is skin, Mr. Weasley," The Healer looked at his watch before putting his clipboard to the side. "but bone is bone, gentlemen, regardless of what skin is over it or the shape of the muscle covering it. Where Auror Weasley was beaten, the skin was thinner, true, but the bones under it were still the same density. Suffice to say, he was badly beaten, and even when he reverted back to his normal appearance, the bones were still damaged, and the brain inside his skull was still bruised. The skin was fixed quickly, but the bones still need time and potions to heal." 

"How long will he need to be in there?" 

"Oh, at least a day, if not two or three. The brain bruise needs time to heal, most of all. Now, you're welcome to come see him, but he might be a little out of it. He received potions so he's not quite coherent." 

The three of them looked at one another. "I'll go sit with Mum a spell, until Dad gets here with the rest of the family. Tell Ron I said, _good job_." 

The three of them went to the double doors of the ward, with Harry opening it for the other two. They watched Charlie slip into the room marked "Weasley, M" in bright magically induced letters. They walked further down the hallway to the corresponding room, marked "Weasley, R" in bright illuminated letters. 

"You ready, Hermione? We can wait a minute if you need it?" 

"That's my husband in there. He needs me, and you, even if I feel like beating him to a pulp, too." 

"No canaries, not right now." Harry cheeked back. 

"No, I was thinking some baby dragons, actually." 

"No, that won't work either, Hermione." 

"I'm upset, alright? He lied to me. You lied to me, too, along with breaking your promise." 

"And for a great reason, Hermione. Had you known what the plan was, you'd have stood between us and this mission. He had to go in, as Dad, to do what was needed." 

"And of course you have no problem going along with the plan," she muttered bitterly. "You should have trusted me." 

"Hermione, enough. We're Aurors, not librarians. Our job is dangerous. We have to take risks, to protect people, or to rescue them from bad wizards. Shite goes sideways, often. You're just bent on this one since you were involved." 

"I'm entitled to be upset." 

"Yes, you are, but right now, he needs you. Let him heal up then rip on him, alright?" 

"I'm not done with you, Harry. We still have quite a lot to talk about, about integrity and keeping promises." 

"Fine, row with me, but leave him out of it." 

"I'm holding you to it," she whispered into the door. Hermione took a deep breath before pushing in the door to Ron's room. 

The lights were mostly off in there, with one lone one shining, away from the bed. Harry followed Hermione's stride, wand out just in case she went barmy again. 

"Whose here?" a weak voice spoke from the bed. "Better speak up since it's damn dark everywhere. Can't see shite here in the dark," a croaking voice echoed through the room. 

"It's us, Ron. We're here." Hermione put her purse in the chair and leaned over the bed, kissing Ron on the forehead. 

"'Bout bloody time," he growled. "How's Mum?" 

Hermione didn't speak up, procrastinating by moving a chair closer to the bed where she could sit with Ron. 

"Damn it, someone tell me." 

"We don't know yet," Harry whispered while standing like a specter at the end of the bed. "She's still asleep in her room. Charlie's in there with her." 

"Bullshit," Ron spoke darkly. "I got the bogies beat out of me and the feckin' sods don't know yet? The kind of place are they running here?" 

"Nah, mate. Mum's on sleeping potions right now, to rest up some. They're gonna start weaning her off later today. They'll know more then. But she was injured worse than we realized." 

"So were you." Hermione sat down next to the bed. With her vinewood wand in hand, she illuminated the tip. Ron shied back from the bright light, covering his face. 

"Turn that bloody thing off, Hermione." 

"I want to see how bad he hurt you." 

"I'm sure the rent boy healer told you before you came in. He reminds me of Malfoy, the slick git. He wouldn't answer a damn question and when I bothered to get him to look at me, all he said was, 'You'll live.' How'd he get to be a sodding Healer?" 

Harry and Hermione looked at one another, smirking at Ron's filter being broken. 

"I'm sure he passed his NEWTs, just like Hermione did." Harry pulled a face and scooted the other chair behind him. 

She touched his cheek to get him to turn his head. "Quit complaining and let me look at you." He complied. 

Delicate fingers traced the bright pink scars on his cheeks, along with the slight bend to his nose. "The Healer said that you'll be in here a day longer, because you're allergic to the potion they use to heal brain bruises. But a day or two, and you'll be able to go home." She touched the freckles on his face and the stubble now apparent on his chin. "They fixed your broken nose and healed the cuts on your face. But they don't have a bottle of skele-gro in hand to give you for the broken bones in your face." 

"Brain bruise? That's rubbish. Ron sat up in the bed and groaned. "On second thought, maybe it has some merit. Is that why the lights are down in here and I feel a little woozy?" 

"And that's why the lights are down in the room, among other things. If you're wobbly in the bed, looks like you'll stay in there a day or so, until your balance returns to equilibrium." 

The three of them sat quietly in the room, watching Ron slowly drift back off into a doze. 

"Why'd it have to be you?" Hermione asked in a whisper. 

"I asked for it, Hermione. I'm an Auror, not some bloody rent boy." Harry smirked. "You think I'd let anyone else run my plan, and take the risk? No one could know Dad, and their history, like I did. Good thing it was me. He did ask questions, saying shite from their previous run-ins. I knew the potential going in, that he'd hurt me terribly. But you think I'd let Dad go in there? Hell no. But I expected it to be like a training mission, even with all of the risks taken out of it and it still went sideways. How the Hell can you plan for a mistake that gets an Auror killed on duty?" 

"I'll help you, if you'll let me." 

"Are you gonna bust my bits over this?" He sat up fast and everyone watched his eyes swim in the dark room. "Shite, my head hurts." 

Hermione took one of the pillows out and changed the shape before putting it back behind his head. 

"Thanks," Ron replied once he got comfortable again. The question hung in the air between them. 

"Why? You told me that it's Mum. You did what you needed to do. The price was high, but you thought it worth it. The other Aurors thought so too. But I always worry about you. You too, Harry." She saw him looking at Ron forlornly. She reached for Ron's hand and pulled it to her face, pressing it into her cheek. He grimaced for a second from pain. "We still need to talk. You should have trusted me. Yes, I probably would have been in a strop over it, and rowed a bit more 'til I realized – "

"You've done enough. Both of you," Ron looked past Hermione at Harry, who was standing quiet at the foot of the bed. "You helped, and we had an idea and somehow made it work. It was Mum's life and whatever cost, it was worth it. Mum got out and I hope what I did was enough. I'll face my inquiry on my feet." 

Ron saw Hermione smiling. "2 days? That specky git put me on my arse harder than this." Ron stretched his arms and there was a noisy crack from it. He pulled a face and saw Harry smirking. "You think I can get out of here earlier than 2 days? A bloke can get bored easily at home just as well as a hospital bed." 

"I dunno, Ron. My incredibly brave and utterly stupid husband might be better tended in here than at home, where you'd indulge in chocolate frogs and licorice wands too much." 

"Harry, you'd hear that? She said I was incredibly brave. Imagine that!" 

"But since Mum is still in here, a few doors down, I thought you'd be better off here, where we can both help her as needed." 

Ron quit grinning like a troll. "You're right. I can't do shite right now, but I can keep her company, even if I'm pants at being a patient." 

"Since you're still coping with the brain bruise, you might be better off company for Mum than your siblings." 

"I doubt Mum's up for taking care of matters since she's in here. You might have to do it, Ron." Harry cheeked. 

Ron replies with an improper British salute. Hermione rolled her eyes at her best friends. 

"So that posh twit said I had a broken what?" 

"It's the cheekbone and orbital, which houses the eyeball. Lestrange must have hit you pretty hard to do that." 

Ron shrugged. "Just magic inches from my face. It hurts enough." 

"I'll ask if they can give you a little more pain potion, since you're still hurting." 

"Don't bother. It's an ache and not a real pain, I reckon." 

Harry shook his head in consternation. Hermione rolled her eyes once again. 

"What's a bloke got to do to get a kiss?" 

"I'm not kissing you, Ron, no matter how often we've shared a tent out on a bloody mission." 

Ron gave Harry a very rude hand sign. He laughed. "Hermione, no snogging. You might break his face worse than it looks right now." 

"I shall kiss my incredibly brave husband if I want to." Hermione leaned over Ron's gurney and Harry turned his head. He didn't need to see them snogging again, not while being knackered and missing his bride too. 

"I guess I need to go check on Mum. I wonder where the rest of the family is at." 

He looked over his shoulder and saw that they weren't going to be conversing with him for a while. "Right, I'll close the door behind me." 

Harry made his way out and into the ward. Various doors lined the hallway of the particular ward they were in. He walked the hallway, peeking in various windows of the A &E ward. Once he came to the next to last one, he stopped. Charlie was sitting in the chair next to Molly's bed, watching him talk to his Mum. 

"Harry!"


	16. Blessed with Magic and Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My pricy Solicitor wanted me to remind everyone that I am not Jo, don't own IP or copyright to her characters, only the plot, and that I'm nowhere near Edinburgh to have some nice Fish and Chips. Finally, those who are asking for Update soon... I hope this is soon enough! - _DG_

* * *

"Harry!" 

He turned and saw Arthur striding purposefully up the hall, followed closely by the Director and Minister on his heels. "We came over straight away. Where is she?" 

Harry stepped towards the door and opened it, revealing a sleeping Molly and an emotional Charlie. "Oh my son! Molly!" He took three long strides into the room and hugged Charlie forcefully, lifting him almost out of the chair. The other men looked away, giving them a moment of privacy they really couldn't otherwise get. Words were spoken, broken and incoherent, but the men understood. 

He let him back some and looked him up and down. "Are you hurt? Did you -"

"I'm fine, Dad. It was just a hard go of it, getting Mum out of there. She's heavier than a 5 stone sack of turnips." 

Harry, along with the other two, stepped into the room and let the door close. It was a tight fit, with five men and Molly in the bed, with the display chart floating above her. 

"Where's Ron and Hermione?" Arthur asked quietly. "I thought they'd be in here with Mum." 

Harry looked at the other two before answering. "Ron's in another room, just down the ward. He was hurt during the rescue mission. Hermione's in there with him." Harry cleared his throat. "He's going to be in here a day, at least, if not more." 

"He was hurt?" Harry muttered a slightly guilty _yes_ Arthur looked at the men in the room. "How bad was he hurt?" 

Director Robards spoke up first. "Lestrange roughed him up. The plans went to hell and Harry was injured and left him alone about fifteen minutes. It wasn't part of our planning, at all." 

"When I got back to him, Ron looked like hell." Harry couldn't quite meet his father in law's eyes in the darkened room. "We didn't plan every single possibility, it seems." 

"You're hiding something." Arthur studied Harry's face. "What aren't you telling me?" 

"Of course I am, Dad." Harry refused to budge on answering the question. 

"'e needs to know, 'arry." 

The occupants of the room turned and saw Ron leaning heavily on the door frame. Hermione was under his left arm, trying to hold him up precariously. "And I'll tell'em if you want." Ron wobbled on the door frame, his speech slightly slurred. Hermione moved his arm and slid under it, buckling slightly under the additional weight on her shoulders. 

"Ron, you need to be back in the bed. You heard the medi-witch," Hermione hissed. "You're not supposed to be up walking until tomorrow. You could hurt yourself worse if you fall." 

"Sod her and the bloody poofty Healer. They can fix my head. Mum and Dad need me. But get me a chair, wouldcha?" 

Hermione said quite a few unpleasant things under her breath, leaving Harry speechless, but watched her transform the other chair in the room into a soft and squishy one. "You're lucky I don't tie you to this one. You might actually follow the Healer's orders if you're magically secured to the bloody bed! I might actually do that when you're back in your bed!" 

"Maybe later, Hermione," he cheeked before turning back to his Dad. 

"We had to do a bit to get Mum back. It wasn't easy." He looked at the other two men and saw the Director nod slightly in approval. "It took everyone but, as you can see, we got her." 

"Obviously, Ron. You're Aurors. But you're not telling me everything." 

Ron took a shuddering breath before rubbing his hands across his face. "Ruddy headache. Smythe's dead. Lestrange killed him and Harry watched it happen." 

Arthur sank down into the chair Charlie relinquished. He put his head into his hands. "Anything else? That's not all, is it?" 

"No, Dad, it's not. The bastard put an _Imperio_ on Mum, one that the Healer caught because Hermione had been so determined to find which binding curse he'd put on her. He removed it, and we got Lestrange to remove the binding. Had she been subjected to much more nefarious magic, she might have gone mad, like the Longbottoms. As it is, he removed the _Imperio_ from her, and the binding is off. But we just don't know enough yet, not 'til Mum wakes." 

"So she's free from all the curses and binds he put on her?" 

"I reckon so, since she's here," Harry added. "But we don't know if he forced potions on her." 

"The Healer said," Charlie started before stopping and looking towards Mum asleep in the bed, "the Healer said that there isn't enough research about binding spells used for coercion since the last century. Everything he's doing is educated guesswork. The case is a nightmare and once it's completed, one way or another, he's writing it for the research journals." 

The men looked at one another, refusing to address the troll in the room. Arthur kept his head down, talking to himself, mostly, while the Director and the Minister looked at Molly. Charlie was standing sentry by the door with Harry while Ron stayed in his chair, keeping his eyes closed. 

"Did Bill get the wards down?" Ron asked. "I dunno if anyone said, since my head's full of wool." 

"Bill got the protective wards down once we had some of his blood. It was quite gross really, watching him break the wards." Hermione made a face showing her revulsion of how he broke the corrupted wards. "He didn't need me, 'cept as a redundancy." 

"Where is Bill?" 

"He went home to spend some time with Fleur and Victorie. He'll be up a little later, depending on how Vic and Fleur are doing." Charlie gave Harry a shrewd look but ignored the rest. "But he should be by in a few hours. I'm sure he owled Percy about everything, or will firecall him." 

Harry had a thought. "Where's George? I thought he'd be here by now, screaming at me about Mum's condition." 

Arthur spoke up. "Your brother left, with Angelina, to go get Ginny. They took a midnight Portkey to Caracas via Salem and Miami. From there, I guess they'd take another to get wherever she was at." 

The two older men grunted. "He didn't. That ruddy little git." 

"When?" Harry whispered. 

"They left about 4 hours after they left the Ministry. He was already gone by the time Ron came by to talk. They weren't here long, just enough for dinner and a cuppa and to let me know what was going on. They shoved off for the Ministry and we've not seen them since. Charlie said it was for the best that we not tell you, so you wouldn't be distracted from trying to save Mummy." 

Arthur interlaced his hand with his wife and squeezed softly. 

"George admitted he was acting a prat and making a scene, not when you two were moving everything this side of the Veil to get her back. He said he had to help and that was how he could do so." Arthur smiled at everyone. "He said it was better that he shove off and get her, even with the expense, rather than sending Charlie to get Ginny. But we agreed that Ginny needed to know, from us, rather than getting it splashed in the papers." Arthur looked at the others. "I know that there were plenty of problems, including your protests, Hermione, but while I'm glad you spoke up, I'm glad you got Mollywobbles back." Arthur's ears and nose turned red and he didn't bother to hide the emotions rolling over his face. "I dunno what I'd have done if you hadn't rescued her. She's my _everything_." 

"We know, Dad." Charlie spoke up but every other head in the room nodded in silent agreement. 

Ron let out a snore, bringing smiles to the rest. "It's the injury and the potions they have him on. The Healer said he'd sleep off and on for the next few days." 

"He's earned a break, what he went through. Right Kingsley?" 

"I reckon so. What about you, Granger? You ok?" 

"I'm worn out. It's been one mad case." Hermione saw Harry looking at her and she shook her head briefly. "Later," she mouthed silently to his unasked question. 

"So you think they'll be here any minute?" Harry asked instead. 

"Yeah, pretty much. George said he would try to be back today. I dunno when, really. I've not talked to him since he left," Charlie added. He put his hands on Arthur's shoulders and watched his father in law lay his head down on the hospital quality blanket on the bed. 

Hermione stepped away from the sleeping Ron. "I'm going to get some tea. Anyone want anything else?" 

"Yeah, I'll come with. I need something to eat." 

"You're almost as bad as Ron, I reckon." 

"I earned it from all the heavy lifting." 

"I'll come with and see if Ginny is here." 

"Potter, a minute. I need to talk about something, privately, with you and Arthur." 

"Yes, sir." He looked at the other two. "I'll catch up in a minute." 

They left. 

"Potter, you know you'll have to testify at the proceedings." 

"Yes, sir. I realize that. I witnessed an Auror being murdered in the line of duty. That will compel my testimony. And I know they are going to bring up everything from the war. Yes, sir, I realize that." 

"Arthur, you know you'll have to possibly face inquiry too." Gawain said gently. 

"His solicitor will bring it up, if he can, at his trial. He's going to try and make you out as the aggressor." Kingsley added. 

"We'll have our Solicitors help you should it come up." Gawain added. 

"I'll offer mine if you need it, Dad." Arthur barely smiled at Harry's generous offer. 

"What happens, happens. I'll deal with it when the time comes. Right now, I just want to see Molly back to herself. If I've lost Molly," Arthur couldn't finish his statement. 

"We understand. Potter, go on and catch up with the others." Harry stayed rooted where he was. 

"We'll stay with Arthur and Ron until you get back. She's not left unguarded." Gawain smiled for the first time on the case. "Last time I checked, we're a fair pair of wands too." 

"Yes, sir." 

Harry stepped out from the room and rested against the sterile white walls. Charlie and Hermione were gone from the ward, to hunt up food at half five. He'd been in the hospital enough since joining the Aurors that the kitchen was open at 5am, so Charlie could get something to eat. 

He slid down the wall, feeling the adrenaline of the case finally slough off and leaving him a mess on the floor. 

Conflicting thoughts rattled through his head, one after another, including helping Ron deal with the loss of his Senior Auror and mentor on the team. He'd have to answer to Auror Jones, and the Director about the mission cock-ups. They'd probably change some of the future mission protocols from the shite Lestrange did. They'd have to train for it, knocking out those who were out in the field, or just waiting, so they wouldn't muck stuff up. And then there was a personal debriefing, with the Minister, probably, regarding media aspects of the case. Do they tell anyone outside of the Ministry? Do they keep it covered up? How could they? The press would love to write that expose, where a senior Auror died on a hop and Harry couldn't save him. 

Now that Lestrange was caught, there was one less on the most notorious list from the end of the War. Others were still out there, like Avery and Dolohov. They were still causing havoc. One down but his job still wasn't over, not in the least. 

And then there was Ginny. He knew he was busy with this case. But he also heard the Minister, about keeping quiet on informing her. At least his arse wasn't on the line when it came to going against the Minister's instructions. George was his own man, and made his choice. But how can he convince her, without blowing up Wizarding London, with his case? 

And why did that thought shrivel his bollocks? 

He pushed up from the floor and made his way to the double doors of the ward. Maybe he could find a pasty to eat on. Maybe he could get some for dad and the others, if they'd eat. It wasn't like he wasn't hungry but he certainly had no appetite, not after finding out about Mum's precarious condition. 

Harry slipped out of the ward, seeing no one in the hall. 

The lift dinged before opening, revealing Angelina Johnson, George Weasley and Ginny. 

"Oh shite," He muttered. The _and Ginny_ part worried him the most. She might be on his next of kin forms, finally in the one slot where he'd wanted to put her for years, but this wasn't the time to think about her benefits should she murder him for cause. 

Judging by the furiously homicidal look on her face, that was exactly what was about to happen. He quickly shoved his wand into his back pocket, so he could face her wrath without fighting back. 

"Harry Potter," she yelled in the sterile hallway. 

"Oh shite," Harry repeatedly muttered. 

"Oh shite is right, you fuckstrumpet. Why on the bloody earth do I have to hear about Mum's kidnapping from anyone not named Harry bleeding Potter? You don't bother to tell me that Mum was kidnapped and instead I had to hear about it from my sodding brother, who spent half his galleons getting an emergency Portkey transport to come find me? No, the one person who should have told me that Mum was kidnapped didn't bother to tell me that Mum was in mortal peril." She finished in a yell, three inches away from the end of his nose. 

George and Angelina slipped inside the double doors of the ward, leaving them alone in the hallway near the waiting room. It wasn't private but there was nowhere else on the ward for them to row. 

"Ginny, maybe we can – "

Ginny tried to slap Harry but he caught her hand. She glared fiercely at him. "Sod that, Potter. You should have told me something the first bloody day. You should have come to tell me yourself!" 

Ginny wrenched her arm free from Harry's firm grip and stalked the room. He turned and watched her turn on him. 

"You should have fucking told me! My own damn mother, kidnapped, and you don't have the bollocks to tell me, not even in a bleeding note?" 

"When could I have done that, huh?" Harry yelled back. "I've been on the bloody case as soon as it erupted, and I've been awake the last 36 hours and here you are, tearing my arse in two because I didn't personally come to Buenos Aries to tell you personally that Mum was kidnapped?" 

"Don't patronize me, Harry. There were hundreds of ways to contact me, and you didn't do a bloody one of them. You couldn't even ask my damn brother to come get me! No, he had to make up his own mind, with Dad's agreement, to come tell me." Harry saw her hands turning into fists and releasing them. But then they were all on edge, after everything that's happened. 

"I had to get roused out of my bed at half three by Angelina to tell me that she and George were at the hotel to bring me back home." Ginny's ears turned even redder, along with the neck Harry loved to leave kisses on. "My bloody husband," venom dripped from each word, "couldn't even send a note with them, telling me. I had to hear it from George, of all people, that Mum was kidnapped and he didn't know what the hell was going on. Merlin, it's a wonder I didn't trash my hotel room there, after George and Angelina told me what happened. It's a miracle that I repaired his hearing after screaming at him!" 

Neither of them saw the photographer taking a picture of them rowing, nor the notes by the younger woman standing behind them. 

"When could I leave, huh? It was in the middle of a bleeding case! I'd have not left anyone kidnapped, not until the case was over. You know that! I'm an Auror, not a bloody owl!" Harry yelled back. "And I wasn't leaving your Mum to her fate, damn it!" 

"How stupid do you take me, Potter? You think I can't handle that kind of news?" Ginny's wand was out and sparks were escaping the end. "I'm bloody furious 'cause my husband couldn't take two minutes to send word himself. No, my brother had to have the initiative to come and tell me. Merlin, Harry, you could have at least written a bloody note! Why do you bother hiding everything from me? I'm your wife, damn it!" 

"What would you have me do, huh? Kingsley said no word to you. I go against him, I get sacked!" 

"Bullshite. Kingsley wouldn't sack you for informing your wife that her mother had been kidnapped." Revelation dawned on her. "You did tell him, right? You did inform him that we'd eloped, right?" 

Harry stood there and took all of her anger, keeping quiet the entire time. He'd even take a hex or three if that would help her feel better. 

"Shite, Harry. Did you bother to tell anyone besides our closest family we'd gotten married?" 

Harry stood there, looking at the rage on her face. It had honestly slipped his mind, informing the Minister and Director. But they'd only been married a fortnight, really. 

"Say something, you arrogant ass." 

"I might have not informed them, since it's only been 2 weeks. I can't recall right now." Harry shifted his argument. "But that's not the point! When the hell could I just leave and come tell you? We couldn't inform the papers, not with Mum's life on the line. It was completely dumb luck that Ron was there right after Dad got the ransom note. And It's not like I can take off three days in the middle of a fucking case and come tell you, 'You need to come home. Mum's been kidnapped and instead of busting my arse to get her back, I'm here to tell you.' You'd kill me if I abandoned Mum to her bloody fate, wouldn't you? So what would you have me do, huh? Abandon Mum or rescue her?" 

"That's not the point, Harry. You didn't tell me, your own wife. I had to find out third hand." Ginny collapsed into the chair. "You should have told me. I am your wife, damn it." Her shoulders shook beneath her long flowing hair. She started howling, for lack of a better word. It sounded like bone deep pain. 

He knew that pain. 

Harry moved to kneel in front of his wife, taking her hands in his. "I didn't have time. From the moment Ron's Patronus came in, until about two hours ago, I've been on the run, getting naps only before going back on shift. Ron's the one who ran even harder, especially dealing with Hermione. We've been working our arses off trying to find him then formulate a plan to rescue her. You'd have my bollocks for a talisman if I'd walked out on Ron and the others when it came to finding and saving Mum." 

Her shoulders shook harder, but not a sound passed her lips. 

"If I'm going to have this saving people thing, complex, whatever, it should be used when it's someone really bloody important. Right? Mum's just as important to me as you are." 

She nodded before hugging herself once. Ginny raised her head some, barely glancing at Harry. "Where's Mum," she sniffed before running her hands over her face. Her faded makeup smeared further. "Is she," Her voice broke and she couldn't continue the unasked question. 

"We rescued her. She's safe. Kingsley and the Director are in there, along with Ron. She's resting comfortably back in the ward. It was a family effort, getting her out of there mostly unharmed." 

"Mostly?" she bit back. 

"Yeah, mostly. The wizard who kidnapped her hurt her some, from how she looked when I first saw her at his cottage. The Healer said she was roughed up a bit. And he used magic on her, dark magic, of which the Healer didn't know the counter-curses, so we're just waiting now for him to start waking her up." 

Ginny looked up from her lap and Harry fought the urge to move back from Ginny. White hot fury was written all over her face. "Please tell me that the sod's dead." 

"No, he's not." 

Her eyes went from grief stricken to white hot fury in an instant. "Harry Potter, if you tell me that you let the bastard get away, I'm walking out of here and hunting him myself," she whispered. "Fuck the law. I will kill him personally." 

Harry pulled Ginny's hands into his own and squeezed them tightly. "You don't have to. We captured him. Ron took him down. We got her out of there, with everyone's help." 

"Everyone? Even Charlie?" 

"Yeah, we asked for his help too. And it was a good thing, too. Mum's kidnapper put a curse on her, and then laid more on her, where we couldn't use magic on her, not without hurting her horribly." Harry glanced at the door and chalked it up to a person walking by. "Charlie carried her out on his shoulders. Ron was busy on the case so we couldn't ask him to carry Mum out." 

"Can I see Mum?" Ginny lifted her head and looked at their intertwined hands, seeing the matching bands shimmer under the concealing charm. "He didn't hurt her that bad, did he?" 

"Yeah, he did, but she's asleep right now. The Healer gave her a sleeping draught so she's resting." Harry cleared his throat. "I won't lie to you, but it was close there. Ron's brilliant ideas were how Mum finally got released. His plans were fantastic, even if they were cocked up." 

"How close?" 

"Too damn close, dear." Harry stood up and looked at his wife. "But she's here now, and she's alive and asleep in a bed down the hallway. Let's go see her." 

Ginny stood but stayed rooted to the tile floor. "I'm sorry I yelled at you. I shouldn't have done that." Shame carved lines in her weary face. She looked up and Harry pulled her into a hug. "I was so scared, and George didn't know anything 'cept you and the git were working the case." She pulled back and looked him up and down once more. "You weren't hurt, were you?" 

"Nothing that being on desk duty for 30 days won't fix or help. The kidnapper doused me in Veritiserum." 

"Harry! Why did he douse you? You know that stuff is dangerous!" 

"That was my role in the mission, which I won't talk about here." He saw a flashbulb go off and decided immediately they needed to be inside the protective ward. "We have fans watching." 

He pulled her back into his arms and she collapsed into them, trying to hide the relieving tears that fell. "Why do you put up with me? Gah, I hate acting like this, like an emotional strumpet, and losing my shite over all this." Ginny pulled back and looked up at Harry. "And what do I do? Scream at you like a bloody banshee, that's what. And all you've been doing is probably working your ass off trying to save her, all without getting killed." 

"So? That's what I'm here for." He started to pull her towards the ward. "I'd rather you yell at me than at anyone else. Now let's get inside the ward and we can talk more. I hope those aren't Prophet writers," he whispered into her messed up titian tresses. 

"Where?" 

He saw the two potential reporters, acting like they were waiting for the lift. "Down by the lifts. But once we're in the ward, no one can hear us 'cept the family." He smirked. "I'm sure they want to hear my voice, so they don't have a murder in the hospital." 

"Prat." 

"Witch." 

Harry put an arm around her shoulder and walked her towards the double doors. 

"I oughta still hex you, just on principal." 

"I'm sure you will." Harry smirked while opening the door with his wand. "Just don't remove anything you might need later." 

"Knobhead." 

"Yeah, and you know it." 

They walked through and Harry glimpsed the other two following. He locked it before they could sneak into the ward. 

"Told you," He whispered. Ginny stopped and turned, seeing two faces through the windows of the ward. "But I have to let Charlie and Hermione know so they aren't locked out." 

Ginny gave them a proper English salute before turning back to Harry. In front of them was the door to Mum's room. No one else was in the hallway with them, after Charlie and Hermione had disappeared downstairs. 

"Harry?" 

"Yeah?" 

"You said Mum was hurt. How bad does she look?" 

"The Healer tended much of her superficial bruises and cuts. She doesn't look that bad now. Yes, there is some bruising around her neck, where he tried to strangle her." 

"Strangle her?" Ginny stood there, listening, but the shaking started again. "What else? Did he hurt her?" 

"No, he didn't. He wasn't interested in her that way. But what he did magically to her was bad enough." 

"How bad?" 

"The Healer is using guesswork for her treatment, hoping it works. The case and the magic inflicted upon Mum is, frankly, horrid, and he doesn't know if the treatment they are going to use on her will work." 

"He's guessing? You mean Mum might end up like the Longbottoms?" She closed her eyes and bit down on her knuckle, trying to keep from crying again. 

"No one knows, dear. What the kidnapper put on her, well, frankly, it hasn't been done in almost a hundred years, and that was an isolated case. It had been fifty more before that, for what happened." 

Stormclouds were brewing on her face. "What did he do to Mum?" Her voice dropped to almost a whisper. 

"He put a second binding on her, then _Imperio_ 'd her, too." 

"You're kidding! That's Bollocks." Her face started to crumble before it darkened again. "You mean to tell me that he kidnapped her, then put a second binding on her, with no intention to take her for a wife? The bloody hell is going on?" 

"I think your father would be a better one to explain the why. I only know what I did to make sure she was rescued." 

"What did you do, Harry?" 

Harry stood in front of his diminutive wife and bit his lip. "Once the case is settled, or I can get the clearance to tell you, I will." He pulled her close and kissed her forehead. "Trust me that we did what was needed to get Mum out of there safely, without harming her, and making sure she got here." 

She looked at his exhausted face and nodded once. "I'll hold you to it. Now, where's Ron? Didn't he help?" 

"He did, and he was hurt on the mission." 

"Harry!" She smacked his arm. "How? What happened? How bad?" 

"It's something similar to when you were bludgered off your broom the second match of your career with the Harpies?" 

"Damn. I know I missed 2 weeks after that happened." 

"It's similar to that incident. But there wasn't a bludger involved, only fists and magic." 

"But he'll be better, right?" 

"As well as Ron ever is, I reckon." 

Ginny smiled at the cheek. "Yeah, he's a bit of a git. I doubt this'll knock any sense into him." 

"You ready to go in there?" 

"Yeah, I am. Dad in there?" 

"Yeah, along with the Minister and the Director. They were keeping Dad company while others stepped out." 

"I'm ready." 

"We'll get through this," he blurt out. "I'm not leaving your side, no matter what happens." 

"I know. But that's what husbands do, support their wives. At least that's what I learned from Mum and Dad." 

Ginny pushed open the door and froze for a moment. Mum was asleep in the bed, with a stack of potions by her bedside. The Minister and Director were still there. Ron was snoring like a freight train in his chair, while the men kept Arthur company. 

"Dad?" Ginny spoke quietly in the small room. He looked up from the bed and Ginny gasped. Tears were falling down his face while he refused to release Molly's hand on top of the hospital grade blanket. 

"Ginny," he sniffed, "I'm glad you could make it back." 

Ginny dropped her ruck and took the three steps to her father's side, crushing him in her shorter arms. 

The remainder of the people in the room quietly left. George wheeled Ron out, listening to him snore, leaving Arthur with Ginny. 

"We'll be going back to the Ministry. I have to start all of the reports for the Wizengamot." 

"And I have three depositions to have filed with them regarding this case." 

"But Potter, when you and Mrs. Potter – "

"Mrs. Potter?" 

"We'll talk at your office, Minister." 

"When Mrs. Potter gets settled, I want to see you at half eight for a preliminary report." 

"Yes, sir. I shall, sir." 

"And Potter? Don't discuss the details of the case until we give authorization. We want to have a press release for tomorrow, detailing our capture of the fugitive." 

"Sir, I dunno if this is relevant, but I think that they were already sniffing around here this morning. I spied a photographer out in the hallway." 

"Please tell me that you and Ginny weren't heard rowing about it?" 

"I dunno, sir. She was rather loud and we had no way to secure the room." 

"Shite," Director Robards groaned. "Just what I need, that bug Skeeter sniffing around today when I have a mountain of parchment to write up and report." 

"I'm just saying, sir – "

"No one outside of Aurors need to know the details. Understand? We'll handle it, not you." 

"Yes, sir," He said contritely. 

The two older men left, almost running into Charlie and Hermione at the doors. "Was that the Minister and Director leaving?" Charlie asked. 

"Yeah," Harry rubbed his face and smudged his glasses. "They were going back to the Ministry. But we have to be careful since I think there was a reporter here earlier." 

Charlie handed over a cup of tea to Harry and also George. "Where's Dad and Ginny?" 

"They're in the room. We wanted to give them a few private moments. But we might be able to go back in there now." 

Harry poked his head in first and saw Ginny standing on the other side of the bed. She looked a beautiful mess, with her hair everywhere along with bloodshot eyes and deep shadows under them. He stepped in, letting the rest follow, while he tended his wife. She leaned into him, and he held her. 

"I dunno about you gits, but I think we're going to need a bigger room." 

"George, hush." 

Only Ron's snoring broke the silence of the room. 

* * *

The hallway was quiet. The doors to the ward were locked against unwarranted attention. Too many lookey-loos had come up to the ward intending to see what all the fuss was about. A few Healers came and went out of the ward, along with various medi-witch, all coming in and going for of one particular room on the ward.

Additional healers and medi-witches offered to help on the case. Whispers of Molly Weasley echoed through the hospital and everyone who could, offered to help. 

Harry sat in one of the comfortable seats in the newly expanded room. Once the Healer saw how many were present for Molly, they shrunk two additional rooms so the family could spend their time with her, not in the austere waiting room outside the double doors. 

Ron dozed in his wheelchair, coming in and out with his medication. He'd talked with Charlie and eventually Bill, who had showered and taken a kip. Everyone had taken a chair or even a spot on the floor, like Charlie, who was taking a much needed nap. 

Percy arrived a half hour prior, using the excuse to get an update on Mum for the Minister. It didn't hurt that his long-time girlfriend, Audrey Reeves, was helping on Molly's case. She was the assigned Mind Healer for Mum, once she awoke. But then few would tell her that she was unwelcome on the case. The only ones who could keep up with her mind, much less her wand, were the Aurors, and the Weasleys. Percy had found his equal. 

Everyone except Fleur was present, keeping watch and offering comfort for those who helped. Angelina had run to Shell cottage for a shower and to inform Fleur. She couldn't travel via Floo because her pregnancy only relegated to Portkey for the time being. Anything else was entirely too dangerous. And since Victorie was still a toddler, she needed to stay home with her Mum. 

All that remained was for Molly to wake up. 

At half two, Healer Smalls-Fawcett came into the room, along with a cadre of medi-witches. "Mr. Weasley, with your consent, we'll try and wake Molly from her induced sleep." 

"We're ready." 

"Now, let me warn you before we begin. We have information that is 70 years out of date and it's spotty information at that. We don't know what the secondary spell inflicted on her would will potentially affect her. We also don't know how her mind held up under the ordeal." 

"Is there anything you do know?" George said, cutting across the rest in the room. "Please tell me you didn't get your Healer's certificate out of a Chocolate Frog box." 

"George, shush you." Angelina looked at the others and cringed. "Sorry 'bout that." 

"George is right, actually. We don't know much since the situation is a first and the information we sought is rather obscure. The one thing we do know is that Molly, being older than everyone who has endured this kind of nasty mess, has a better chance of coming through it with her mind untouched. But until we bring her out of the potion induced sleep, we just don't know." 

"Healer, what if," Arthur got choked up on his question, "What if she's touched in the head from all of this? You said you don't know for certain, since it's never happened, according to your records." 

"Regarding Dark magic, much depends on the strength of the witch in question. Does she have the mind that is strong enough to overcome what has happened to her? That's the ultimate question." 

"So you're saying you have no clue, and we're depending on Mum to come through it." 

"Sadly, yes, that's about it. We just don't know but anyone else who goes through this will be helped by what your Mum endured, good or bad." 

Arthur looked around the room and saw the faces of the family he loved. Bill was standing next to Charlie, looking stoic. Charlie tried to be like his brother but his clenching fists gave him away. Percy was there, wiping his face along with his glasses. Audrey was next to him, holding his hand but staying quiet. She knew the risks to Molly's mind better than the rest in the room. George was sitting in the plastic chair and fidgeting, unable to keep still. Angelina was there, rubbing his shoulders and speaking softly to him. 

The other four, since they were pretty much still inseparable, were sitting on the other side of the room, keeping close but distant from the rest. Ron and Ginny were sitting next to the bed, with Ginny holding her Mum's hand. Ron was wringing his hands but also letting Hermione comfort him, much like George and Angelina. 

"I reckon we're as ready as possible. Go ahead and wake her." 

The Healer pulled his wand from his bright green robes and moved it over the supine form on the bed. "Sorry, but I'm being careful. If she wakes up agitated, she could hurt herself or someone else. This binding spell keeps her from hurting herself and others, if necessary. This is nothing like the other one she endured." 

"You're taking precautions." The babble surrounding the bed silenced immediately with Arthur's pronouncement. "That's a wise idea. I don't want Molly hurt, if we can help it." 

The family went silent and they watched the healer work further. "I'm ready to wake her up. Arthur, you get by her head and let her see you. She will need her family, to provide her the grounding she needs." 

Arthur went to the head of the bed and gripped his wife's hand in both of his. Ginny went to the other side and did the same. The rest of the family lined up along the rest of the bed, with Harry taking the foot. Only Audrey, Hermione, and Angelina stayed away. 

Healer Smalls-Fawcett wove his wand once more and a hush settled over the room. Each set of eyes were focused on the petite woman in the bed. 

"Why isn't she waking? She should be awake by now." George started shaking, but Charlie and Ron put comforting hands on him. 

"Hush, you git. She's probably sick of all our ugly faces." 

"And she's probably tired of us bickering about Mum and making demands on her time." 

Arthur chuckled but the laughter didn't touch his eyes. "Come on Mollywobbles. Wake up." 

"Healer Smalls-Fawcett," Audrey chimed in, "maybe she's asleep because she is still recovering from the ordeal. You know how the overload of malevolent magic can overwhelm the body, regardless of sleeping draughts are administered." 

"That's possible," he said under his breath. "But if she doesn't wake, it's gonna scare the family." 

Molly opened her eyes and looked at the myriad of faces looking at her. 

She opened her mouth and started screaming bloody murder. 

Arthur held on for dear life, feeling the bones in his hands being crushed. Ginny was pulled onto the bed, falling off balance and landing half-on the bed. Multiple hands held her down while she arched off the bed. They duplicated the magic, almost unnecessarily, but did it anyway. 

"This is normal," the healer yelled over the din. 

Preternatural silence fell over Molly. All heads turned to see Hermione stowing her wand inside her robes. "Hurry," she whispered. 

The Healer turned back to the patient on the bed and worked his wand over the patient. She was still screaming, silently, thanks to Hermione's silencing spell, while he worked his wand and performed diagnostic spells over her bed. "Her lungs are healthy, and her heart is showing stress but nothing aside what I was expecting." One quick spell and she fell back on the bed, stunned. The Healer looked at Arthur Weasley once again and gave him a sympathetic look. "We'll give her another sleeping draught, a stronger one, and try again in the morning." 

Audrey put down her clipboard of notes. "Healer Smalls-Fawcett is right, Mr. Weasley. I've been here for many awakenings. This is normal. I would have been shocked that it went as hoped for." She turned to the mind Healer and tried to hide the disappointment. "But it's Molly." 

"It's just a temporary setback. We'll try again in the morning and then go from there. We'll get her back. I'm not giving up on her, not at all." 

A medi-witch hustled into the room with tray of vial filled potions. "Excellent. The patient needs the stronger sleeping draught and a nerve replenishing potion." The Healer took two of them from the tray while the medi-witch left the room just as quickly. He worked silently again to administer the potions to Mum. 

She fell asleep within seconds of receiving the sleeping draught. "Yes, we have spells to give it without her needing to drink the potion. But we only do that with patients who are in here." 

Molly moaned, and started thrashing in the bed. 

"Healer, what was that last potion?" Percy asked and stepped closer to Molly. He put his hand on her head and she moaned louder. 

"St. Mungo's proprietary sleeping draught. It's stronger than the one you can purchase in the Apothocary. We make it on-site and we've never had a problem in it." 

"What's in it?" Percy asked while watching Molly start to turn a strange shade of blue. 

"It's a sleeping draught. Normal ingredients, I guess. We've never had a problem before." 

"Damn it, is there asphodel in it?" Percy yanked the blankets from his mum and saw the bright red warts popping up on her skin. "She's allergic to asphodel, just like Ron!" 

"Shite," The Healer grunted before pulling his wand from his smock holster and weaving a complex pattern over her body. "Hurry, Phillip!" He wove it over her head, and over her torso, desperately avoiding her flailing arm and leg. He did the same incantation over her legs and once again over her torso while finishing on her head. 

Epithets and sobs echoed in the room, all ignored while the healer worked frantically over Molly's form. 

She fell with a thud into the bedclothes, looking extremely pail and having trouble catching her breath. 

"Why didn't anyone bloody well tell me she was allergic to asphodel? Merlin!" the Healer barked at the people in the room. "How the hell was I supposed to know she was allergic? Why isn't this in her records, damn it!" 

"They wouldn't have known." Percy spoke up. "She gave some to Ron, once, and he reacted badly. That's why it's in his chart. But Mum doesn't come to St. Mungo's unless it's to have children, so it wouldn't be in her files. But no one else would have known, since Bill and Charlie were off at school, and the twins were playing downstairs. Only I saw, and knew about it." Percy turned to his father sitting on the other side, shaken by the ordeal. "Sorry, Dad, but I thought you knew. I thought you'd told him." 

"I didn't consider that they'd use their own sleeping draughts. Mummy always made her own, at home, since she didn't want to make the trek here." He put his head down on the blanket and cried. Ugly sobs broke the tension in the room. 

"She's gonna be stuck in here, isn't she? Fuckin' bastard broke her and she's gone, like Neville's parents." George put his head in his hands, uttering further dark words. "And you sods are trying to bloody well kill her too!" 

"You don't know that," Audrey interjected. "We've had many a patient – "

"Shut it, you bint."George towered over the petite Audrey by quite a few inches. "What do you know? Bloody pathetic, sitting here with the rest of us and you can't help do a thing. What are you doing besides –"

Angelina yanked George up from his seat and shoved him towards the door of the room. "Come on, you git. I'm taking you home 'til you know how to behave around others." Angelina waved at the rest before disappearing through the door. 

Percy had his glasses off and was cleaning them repetitively. 

"Audrey, I'm sorry. My brother, he means – "

"I've heard worse, much worse, Percy." She found his hand and gave him a squeeze. "I'll be back around five and check on Mum. I've got the reports to write up, along with a protocol list to develop once she wakes and is back with us. She's going to need some time, with me as well as others, to overcome her ordeal." 

Percy spoke up. "I'm stepping out and will be right back." They departed the room. 

"Dad, I'm going to leave, too. I'll be back in the morning once you know what time they are going to wake Mum. I have to get back at the office a spell longer." Bill hugged his father and clapped Charlie on the shoulder. "You staying tonight, you prat?" 

"Yeah, you tosser. Someone's gotta keep an eye on Mum. She might wake and tell the staff that her room is dirty and they need to tidy it. I'm staying so she can tell me off for not having the room spotless." 

Percy came back in, wiping his eyes and looking at everyone. "I need to return to the Ministry. I have to update the Minister on Mum's condition and file some follow-up reports." Percy hugged his father. "Are you taking Dad home with you?" He gave Charlie an inquisitive look. 

Charlie clapped his father on the shoulder. "Dad? It's up to you." 

"I'll stay a spell. I don't want Mummy to feel like she's alone in here." Everyone looked at one another. Charlie took the lead with his other siblings. 

"I'll stay with you 'til you want to leave, Dad. We'll go back to Shell Cottage for the evening." 

"I'm not leaving," Ginny bit off her answer. "So the rest of you can sod off." 

"Ginny, enough," Harry growled. "We know you're staying." 

"I need to do a couple of things at my job but I will return as soon as possible. Ron, you'll keep Ginny and Mum company, right?" 

"Yeah, I'll stay too. These bloody meds keep me nodding off in the middle of conversations. Completely barmy." He found her hand and gave a squeeze before pulling her down to put a peck on her cheek. "You and Harry do what you need to do at the Ministry. They can't kick me out since I'm still a bloody patient." 

"I'm still not leaving," Ginny growled. "They can all go to Hell." 

"Harry, you coming with?" 

"I'll meet you outside." 

"Don't get cheeky with my wife, you git." 

"And you're a tosser, Ron. Only the tabloids believe that rubbish." 

"You gits make me sick," Charlie cheeked. 

"And if you fancied anyone, you'd understand," Hermione cheeked back. "I'll bring takeaway when I return. 

"They get in the way of my Dragons." He grinned. "Few witches are as interesting as a Chinese Fireball, I reckon." 

Harry leaned over and whispered in his wife's ear. "Do you want takeaway for dinner? Curry, perhaps?" 

"I'm not hungry. Maybe later I will be." 

"Fine then. I'll be back about half five and bring dinner for everyone." Harry yawned very wide. "But I'm knackered. I need a kip before wrapping up." 

"You do what you have to do but I'm not leaving." 

Harry leaned over and kissed Ginny on the cheek. "I'll come back." 

She waved him off, throwing a crude hang gesture behind her while he laughed before leaving. 

"And I'm bringing curry for me and Ginny, and anyone else who wants it."

No one answered, only keeping a quiet vigil over the matriarch. "Alright, I'll go and report in."


	17. By the Power vested in me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** My thanks to all of the readers, followers, and reviewers. Your feedback and input are well appreciated. As a reminder, my solicitor has stated that I don’t own IP or copyright to HP or the characters, only the plot in question. Furthermore, I do some charity but it’s not entirely as expansive as Jo. - _DG_

* * *

**“Potter!”**

Harry lifted his weary head from the quill and parchment he was transcribing his after-action reports. He’d been going over 24 hours now, really 48 with the little amount of sleep he’d been running on. The effects of Veritiserum didn’t help either, not with a fuzzy head and losing his train of thought sometimes. 

He hadn’t intended to speak with the Director until tomorrow, at least. 

“Williamson is at Azkaban with Auror Jones. I need you to meet them there and do a First with Lestrange.” 

Harry sat gobsmacked. “Sir, I’m a junior. I’m not authorized to interview until I’m a Senior.” 

“You’re authorized now, for this case, Potter. I’m hoping that he’ll brag some with you, with Auror Jones privately witnessing it, as additional evidence for the case. Furthermore, McGonagall spoke with the Minister and she has informed him, via the Elves that worked for Lestrange at the manor that our counts are off, by a magnitude. They admitted to helping him dispose of those he murdered.” 

“But, sir, we already know about the hundred or so, according to his own ledger and diary entries.” 

“And I want that sorry son of a bitch to admit to the other hundred or so buried is his closet if not on the property!” 

Harry sat still under the growing ire of his Director. “But, sir, don’t we have enough with Smythe’s murder to have him convicted for life in Azkaban?” 

“Potter, you’re being short-sighted.” 

Harry frowned at the old joke. 

“This isn’t about me, or you, or even that sod in the cells awaiting trial. This is for the families of those murder victims, the ones who lost loved ones and never knew what happened. I want him to admit as best as possible who he murdered, how many, and so we can give some closure to those families. So if I have to use you to get that information, so be it.” 

“Yes, sir,” Harry responded contritely. “I’ll leave now, sir.” 

Harry departed for Azkaban and his duty to Wizarding Britain. 

* * *

Harry landed at the receiving station in Azkaban. Four wands were pointed at him until he showed his DMLE-AO badge to the supervisor. They documented his information and verified his wand before securing it. “Minister’s orders, sir, since he was a previous escapee.” Harry nodded before handing over his wand. 

He traversed the dank corridors of Azkaban. He knew the history of the prison, as well as the most famous of mass breakout. No wonder why Sirius reverted to his canine form much of the time, to escape the misery this place was. 

He couldn’t imagine how terrible it must have been with Dementors, too. 

“Took you long enough, Potter.” 

“Sod off, Nigel. I was informed by the Director thirty minutes ago. I took the first Portkey available.” 

Harry wobbled slightly in the hallway in front of the others. 

Auror Jones looked Harry over. “Have you even been cleared by a Healer yet?” 

“No. I returned to my desk at the ministry for preliminary reports and the Director sent me here. I’ve not been checked over by the Healer yet. I was going at 11am.” 

“Damn it, Gawain,” Nigel growled. “Hemera, he can’t go in there.” 

“I’ll be fine. Robards wants me to interview him first and then return.” Harry cringed at how he sounded, like he was begging the adults to let him have a seat at their table. 

“No. You’re in no position mentally to handle an interrogation, not until you are cleared by a Healer. That would get the case tossed immediately, or him cleared at trial. Sorry, Potter, but I won’t let you interview him. “

“But Hemera, I’m fine.” He wouldn’t admit any weakness, not in front of the two best seniors left in the department. 

“Bollocks. You’re dead on your feet. You probably haven’t eaten in 12 hours if not longer.” 

His stomach betrayed him. 

“I stand by what I said. Williamson can watch the proceedings and I’ll interview the suspect. But you can be there, in the room, observing it. That’s the only concession I will give you. If you hold up, we’ll let you assist on the Second.” 

“Yes, ma’am. I understand.” 

The three Aurors walked down two more hallways to the holding cell for Lestrange. Two guards faced away from his cell, and a third was at the crux of the hallway, keeping careful watch on them. “Ah, ‘bout time the Aurors came to see the prisoner.” One of the guards sneered. “It’s only ‘cause it’s Weasley’s Mum that he’s in here.” 

“Shut your gob, McKenzie,” Williamson growled. 

“Say another word and you’re facing an inquiry.” Auror Jones got nose to nose with the shorter guard. “The only reason you still have this job, Michael,” her voice dripped in barely veiled venom, “is because I’ve not complained. When I do, your job is gone. Got it? You’re lucky to be alive, considering,” the threat hung in the air. 

She stared, hard, at the younger man until he muttered a half-hearted apology. 

“That’s what I thought, you pathetic git. Now stand aside!” 

Both guards did and the third one at the end of the hall saluted her piercing glare at him. 

Auror Williamson stood off to the side, tapping his wand on the concrete walls. One incantation later and he was able to watch inside the cell without hindrance. 

“Lestrange, we’re coming in,” Auror Jones bellowed through the perceived concrete wall. Three taps on the concrete and the steel door materialized before them. Another five taps, in cadence on the door, opened it just wide enough for the two Aurors to enter the barren cell. 

Lestrange was lying on a decrepit cot, with itchy wool blankets for comfort. He was cleaner if not slightly more colour to his features. “I was wondering when someone would come drag me out of my blankets. When can I get out of this blasted cell? I’ve been in here long enough. Or is this a mandatory beating, giving me a chance to have my case tossed? I can’t decide what would be preferable.” 

“Rabastan Lestrange, I’m Senior Auror Hemera Jones, and I’m sure you know this other man.” Lestrange looked at the tall woman and the equally tall man next to her. He scoffed at their appearance. 

“Ah, the notorious Harry Potter, the weak halfblood who stood against the Dark Lord and got lucky. I see the smarter minds in the Ministry are using you as expected – nothing more than a docile lap dog, running errands for your betters. Befitting, I imagine, for a man of your soiled heritage.” 

“We’re here – “

“Don’t interrupt me, wench. You stink like halfbloods do. Or maybe it’s the stench off this one, with dirty hands of associating with Mudbloods and blood traitors.” He leered at Harry, looking him up and down twice. “I wouldn’t soil myself fucking you over. You’re nothing more than a badly paid messenger boy, nothing so glamourous as a rent boy, is it, Potter? Probably pay you a pittance since you are only as valuable as the mange you share with your betters in the Ministry. Fitting, I suppose, with that blood traitor Shacklebolt running the show. He’s a disgrace to proper Wizarding kind, much like you are.” 

“You have been formally charged – “

“When I want to converse with you, I will so.” Lestrange stood up and stood over Auror Jones, trying to intimidate her with his presence. “But until I give you leave to speak, shut your mouth!” He snarled for effect. 

“And you are confined in here, with no wand.” She snorted. “Big talk for an impotent wizard.” 

Lestrange smiled, showing the gaps in his smile, before backhanding Auror Jones to the ground. “You deign to speak to your betters – “

Lestrange was hoisted up off the ground and slammed into the concrete wall of his cell. 

“Lestrange,” Harry whispered an inch from his nose, “shut your mouth. You are not in control in this cell. I am. You cannot talk to Aurors that way. And you will apologize to Auror Jones for your outburst as well as striking her. Do you understand me?” 

A gob of spittle hit Harry in the glasses. “I’m not apologizing for anything I’ve done. You’re less than the dirt on my boots. Get my Solicitor in here now. I’m done talking to the likes of you sorry arsed blood traitors.” 

“Drop him, Harry.” 

Harry lowered him to the ground and stepped back. Lestrange crumpled into a pile on the ground, rubbing his neck like Harry’s hands have been a rather snug fit choker. 

“When I get out of here, Potter, I’m coming after that slip of a bint you call a girlfriend. You hear me? I killed Molly and Arthur and she’s next!” 

Auror Jones opened the cell and escorted Harry out of there. “You’re remanded to this cell until your trial, Lestrange. Your Solicitor will present your case at trial, whenever that will be. He will not be permitted inside your cell, conversing only through concrete. Understand?” 

“I won’t serve a day in here! I’ll be released today. You watch! I’ll get a wand and then I’m coming after all of you.” 

Auror Jones silenced down the cell along with locking the door. One final spell concealed it from the guards. “Turlington, when his Solicitor arrives, he is to converse through the door, nothing more. He will be checked for a wand, searched, and escorted by an Auror. You and that git over there will not be alone with him. Do you understand? If you break protocol, the Minister will have your head on a pike at the Ministry and I will have your bollocks for a small pendent. Is that clear?” 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“Good.” 

The three of them stalked away, only to around the first corner. “Alright Harry. Go in there and get him. We’ll be watching through the wall here.” 

“But you said – “

“This isn’t a formal interview. This is a discussion that is off the record, but will be witnessed. We still need information on his victims. His testimony will reflect that.” 

“This is completely mental.” 

“We know, but get him to talk, if you can. Just don’t let your guard down.” 

“I won’t.” Harry stomped back around the corner to the two guards. They didn’t give him the once over like the rest did. “Open the door, please. I’m going in and will be back out in a tic.” 

“Very good, sir,” they replied in unison. 

Harry repeated the procedure and let himself back into the room. 

“You again? Please tell me that my Solicitor is here and I’m getting out of here.” 

“I’m afraid not, Lestrange. The Mugwump ruled that you were to stay confined in custody until the trial. You’ve too much of a threat to the community and a travel risk.” 

“I am not,” he gloated, “except to those vermin infesting this beautiful country.” 

“You really think that anyone who isn’t a Pureblood is worthy of extermination?” Harry asked off-hand. “What about that git Voldemort. He was a halfblood, you know?” 

“Bellatrix should have taken a wand to him personally. But she was in love with that corrupted sod. He buggered up everything that the rest of us were trying to prop him up for. Bloody git was utterly incompetent.” 

“Unlike you, who killed hundreds in your three year reign of terror?” 

“Yeah, bloke gets good at killin’ when that’s all that’s on his mind.” 

“I can see you killing Weasley. But the others? They get in your way? Surely killing purebloods wasn’t on orders.” 

Lestrange flopped back on his cot and looked at the mottled grey ceiling. “Some were, some weren’t. Not like I lost sleep after killing any of them. Nott and Rookwood were on orders. Crabbe was Rodolphus idea, since he was pathetically incompetent. I tried to kill Zabini and Shacklebolt and missed those chances. But those gits the Prewetts were on orders from Voldemort. But the others, like Amelia Bones? Nah. The Dark Lord took care of her personally, among others. When he didn’t want to sully his wand, he asked me and Rodolphus to do it.” He blew a melancholic breath out. “So many, it’s hard to remember them all. Sure, I nailed a few. I kidnapped Fortiscue from his shop at closing one night. He got the once-over from Greyback before I killed him. The elves dumped him in my pond, along with some of the others.” 

He looked up from his cot at Harry standing by the door. “But then you never liked killing, have you, Potter? Don’t have a backbone to stomach it, eh? Are you too weak in the constitution to handle using the Killing Curse on another person?” He spat on the floor. “Not surprised, since you’re nothing that a jumped up halfblood only fit to shine my shoes and get my meals. You’re as worthy of notice as a bloody house elf, and half as useful.” 

Harry just stood quietly. Everything said would go in a pensive when he got back to his desk. 

“Speaking of, I’ve been in here a spell. I’m getting famished. I could use some potions and a meal. Go wrestle up some proper breakfast for me. And I want it hot.” 

“No,” Harry retorted quietly. “You’re a prisoner and you’ll receive meals when it’s time.” 

“It wasn’t a request, Potter. Go get me a proper breakfast, now, you insolent twit.” 

“No,” he answered again. 

Harry anticipated Lestrange’s movement from the cot, coming at him fast with his hands curled into fists. He sidestepped the angry Wizard and let him run face first into the concrete wall. 

“Damn it,” he growled, spitting out another tooth. “You’ll pay for that, Potter. When I get that wand off of you, you will beg me to die.” 

“What wand, Lestrange?” 

Lestrange lunged at his legs and Harry jumped out of the way, landing with a crunch on Lestrange’s wrist. He moaned, painfully. “You jumped up little Halfblood! I will kill you.” 

“I’ve died, twice, Lestrange. You’re incapable of harming me.” 

Lestrange lunged again, tripping Harry to the ground. He was on him immediately, trying to punch him in the face. Harry twisted his hips and used his legs for leverage and rolled them both over. He easily pinned Lestrange in seconds to the concrete floor. He had an arm under Lestrange’s neck and the other into the bony part of his neck. “One thrust, Lestrange, and you’re dead on this floor.” 

“So do it. I’m dead already. I have nothing to live for. Kill me now and be done with it.” 

Harry cuffed him on the back of the head and kicked him squarely in the arse. “You’re not worth the bloody paperwork, Lestrange. No matter how much you beg us to kill you, we will not indulge your deathwish.” 

Harry stepped to the door and waved his hand at it. The steel door opened and he slipped out. “Sorry, Lestrange, but until your case is presented to the Wizengamot, you’re not leaving this cell.” Harry listened to the steel lock with an ominous _clang_ into the bolt holes. 

“A Healer will be by in a while to tend your teeth and your wrist. He will not have a wand and any attempt to kidnap him as a hostage will be _unwise_ to do so.” 

He stepped away for a second before returning. 

“Oh, and if you think you can summon one of your elves to do your bidding, in a feeble and pathetic attempt to escape your cell, forget it. While you were high on pain potions, we _encouraged_ you to free all your elves. All 12 that worked for you are now Free Elves, working elsewhere, for pay. As of this morning, you have no elves at your disposal to assist in your escape.” Harry smiled, wickedly. 

Harry walked off from the door, ignoring the impotent screaming coming from the guarded cell. 

He turned the corner and saw the grins on the other two Aurors. “You’re a cruel wizard, Harry Potter.” 

“Hardly. Robards was smart to ask for the elves to return while he was in his delusions. He was stripped of his clothes and he handed them to each of his elves. That was a stroke of brilliance I’d never think of.” 

“But you taunted him for the information.” 

“He deserved it, since he still wouldn’t give us an accounting. But I did get him to admit that he killed Fortescue. That’ll give the family some closure, at least.” 

“Considering the circumstances, you did a bang on job, Potter. Good work.” 

“But I couldn’t get him to admit to anything else.” Harry banged his head on the concrete wall. “Some interview I had, huh?” 

“We’ll figure it out, once we go over the house and start finding some answers. For a First on your own, you did fine.” 

The three Aurors departed for the receiving station and their Portkey back to the Ministry. 

* * *

“Is that the entire report, Auror Potter?” 

Harry stood before the Director’s desk. “Yes, sir. I dictated everything to the department transcriber, and also made a copy of the memories for the court case. Everything is as reported. But I’m sure you’ll call me out for kicking him in the arse after he attacked me.” 

Director Robards looked over the four feet of transcribed parchment. “Considering what happened in the cell with him, and you were wandless, I’d say that you were rather restrained.” He glanced up. “I know your training record, especially in a hand to hand fisticuff scenario. Now, give me a summary of your interview with Lestrange.” 

“The only one I could get him to admit to that we didn’t know about was Fortescue. He said that his remains are in the pond behind his house. Sounds kinda dodgy to me but it’s the only lead we got out of him.” 

“That’s one more than we had before. The department was trying to track Florean for months before the coup, and no one had heard hide or hair from him since his kidnapping.” Robards pointed his wand at the wall behind him and a massive roll of parchment fluttered from the ceiling. The name Fortescue, Florean was struck through in red ink. “Once he’s positively identified, we’ll strike his name from the missing persons register.” 

The parchment still had hundreds, if not thousands of names etched in magical ink. 

“This is why his information is important. Otherwise, I dunno how we’ll find out the answers to all the kidnappings, all the disappearances. We might never know. But we have answers for one. We’ll start recovery efforts later today on the property. We might even get the freed elves to assist us with finding the information we need.” 

“Yes, sir.” Harry caught himself nodding off standing up. 

“We’ll keep pressing him but we have very little in the way of leverage with him. I want you there for his Second, too. Williamson can take lead on it.” 

“I’ll try, sir. But I was present when he mentioned his reasons for what happened.” Harry rubbed his face, fighting off the exhaustion crushing his bones. “When do you want that second interview?” 

Director Robards put down the parchment in front of him and looked Harry over. “When was the last time you slept?” 

“I had a nap yesterday morning, so maybe 36 hours or so. I might have had 8 hours in the last sixty.” 

“And I bet that was a kip at best, right?” 

“Yes, sir. I’ve not slept more than a couple of hours at a time since the case broke. Bad cases flare my insomnia. This has been a bad case.” 

“Fine. Go home, get some sleep. Shag your wife if you have the energy.” Robards smiled. “I told the Minister for you. I knew because personnel sent me an owl on your change of beneficiary statements. Anyway, be back up here at 10pm tomorrow night. We can interview him then.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Potter?” 

Harry stopped at the door and waited. 

“You and Weasley did an excellent job. There’ll be an inquiry about Smythe, but that’s standard. No one’s head is on the block. You’re not responsible. If they try for your head or his, I’ll step in. This is my command, my decisions, and my responsibility. But you need to know that as cocked up as the case was, you both did terrific work on it.” 

“Yes, sir.” Harry pulled the door behind him and went to gather his rucksack. Sleeping sounded fantastic but his duty was by his wife’s side in a hospital room. 

* * *

Harry detoured for takeaway before setting off to the hospital. He’d stopped at the Thai restaurant around the corner from Grimmauld Place. Ginny preferred their spicy green curry with rice and lamb while Ron wanted chicken and noodles, both in double quantities. A third order of a dozen spring rolls would feed anyone else in the room that was hungry. Then again, he wasn’t planning on Charlie and Dad staying the night. 

But then plans change without his approval or consent. He couldn’t be arsed since he was knackered. 

He pushed open the door and saw Ron and Ginny sitting quietly, keeping their vigil. “Brought dinner,” he said quietly. “Dad and Charlie go home?” 

“Dad didn’t want to leave. Charlie practically dragged him out about an hour ago. We promised to stay up here, in Mum’s room tonight, and keep her company. I asked Charlie to have Fleur give Dad a mild sleeping potion tonight, to help him cope.” Ron looked at Ginny and Harry too. “He’s having trouble right now,” He leaned in closer, “and so is Ginny.” 

“You’re looking better.” Harry handed over the sacks to Ron. His best mate was looking a little better, probably from the potions he was taking. “Go ahead and tuck in, and I’m going to make a palette in the corner. I’ve been an Inferiri since 9am this morning.” 

“Feel better,” Ron pulled the containers out of the various sacks and laid them out in the decrepit tray table. He opened the lamb curry and cringed. “Nope, that’s not ours.” He opened the second and found the chicken and noodle dish. “You know me too well, you specky git.” His stomach grumbled immediately upon seeing the spring rolls. 

“Of course I do, you prat. Just save Hermione some, if you think about it.” 

“No bother there. She’s bringing something herself. She sent her Patronus earlier to tell me to eat up.” 

Ron handed over the lamb curry to Ginny but she refused it wordlessly. He shrugged and tucked into his dinner, scarfing down the spring rolls between bites. While Ron ate, Harry transfigured his Auror jacket into a blanket and his rucksack into a pillow. He dropped off to sleep immediately. 

Ron picked up the other container and tried to hand it to Ginny again. “I’m not hungry, so quit!” she muttered under her breath. 

“Sod that, you bint. You’re hungry and upset too. We all are. But not eating will make it worse.” 

“Don’t tell me what for, Ron. I know as well as you do,” she yelled almost in his ear. 

“Hey, don’t yell at me. It’s not my fault Mum’s lying that bed, dosed on sleeping draughts. Blame the bastard who hurt her, not me.” He shoved a lone finger in his ear. “And quit yelling. It hurts my head still.” 

“Did you hurt him, the sick bastard who did this to her?” Ginny waved her hand over her Mum’s form. “Please tell me that you got a few spells in on him, for her.” 

“No, I didn’t, not that I didn’t want to strangle the life outta him. I didn’t know how close it was for Mum until I was in here. Harry promised me that he’d keep the information from me, not tell me until afterwards. I’d lose my shite if I knew what happened to Mum in there.” 

Ginny shook her head. “None of it makes sense. What happened? Why’d he take her?” 

“Do you want to know, like everything?” 

Ginny whispered a faint yes. “I need to know.” 

“I’ll tell you only if you tuck into dinner. That’s my bargain.” 

Ron put down his plastic fork and spent the next hour explaining everything he could while she ate dinner. He left a few things out, mostly the nasty things that Lestrange said regarding their parents – that wasn’t for Ginny to ever know – but he did explain as much as possible. 

Hermione slipped into the room while Ron was recounting the end of the ordeal. She tipped her head but didn’t interrupt his discussion with his sister. So while he finished telling Ginny how he and Harry rescued Mum, she checked on Harry, making sure he was comfortable on his corner of the floor. 

“So he destroyed the stick in my hand, thinking it was a wand since I was holding it and apparated us back inside the manor.” Hermione tidied the room while Ron continued to talk. 

Ron didn’t hold back when he explained everything he went through, disguised as their father, all in an effort to get Mum back. She cringed some, and got visibly angry at other times. 

Hermione took a spare chair in the corner and listened as well. Her curiosity over what happened won out over tending her husband. There was also pleasure and joy hearing him talk so openly with Ginny about the ordeal. He might not admit it to anyone else, but he was still close with his sister. 

“I know we’ll have an inquiry with the Wizengamot, regarding the death of an Auror on the mission. I accept that. But I also know that everything I did, regardless of Hermione’s protests, will hold up under legal scrutiny. And if they want to sack me for it, so be it. Mum’s more important than my bloody career.” 

Hermione put the sack of her dinner on the tray table. “That’s not entirely true. Had the Wizengamot or the MLS solicitors been available, we might have had better leadership, from a legal standpoint. I’m sure they are going to have a fit over what happened while they were unavailable.” 

“Can’t unbreak those eggs, can we, Hermione?” 

“Sadly, no.” She handed Ron another takeaway carton. “I see Harry brought some for you.” 

“Yeah, but I didn’t eat much of my chicken and noodles.” 

He opened the carton and saw a heaping serving of cottage pie. 

Hermione smiled at the joy on Ron’s face. “Give me your chicken and noodles and I’ll eat it. You enjoy that.” 

“Hermione,” Ginny asked, “what did Ron mean that you were protesting?” 

The couple shared a look before Hermione spoke up in reply. 

“Did Ron tell you why Bill was needed for the mission too?” 

“Bill too? No, he didn’t say.”

“The kidnapper used corrupted blood wards. Bill couldn’t break them at all, not without the kidnapper’s blood. He was inside the warded property. So, to get inside and help Mum, we had to use _extra-legal_ means to infiltrate the residence.” 

Neither one of them spoke while letting Ginny figure out what Hermione was referring to. 

“Oh, you didn’t, did you, Ron?” She breathed out. “I bet you were beastly about it.” 

“I was,” Hermione said. 

“We had to. We’d have died otherwise. Hermione pitched a complete fit, and was in a strop for days. But it worked, and I’m lucky it did. If it’d failed, I’d have hexed off my own bollocks for cocking things up.” 

“It didn’t and I’m proud of you for making the hard choices.” Hermione leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “If you want to take a nap for a spell, I’ll keep Ginny company.” 

“You sure?” 

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’ll be awake for a few more hours. I have a mountain of parchment to catch up on since I was helping with the case.” 

Ron settled into his chair after taking his requisite potions. In minutes, he was snoring to rattle the windows. Hermione wordlessly performed the charm over her husband, giving him the darkness and silence he needed to sleep in the hospital room. He eventually quit snoring. 

“What was that spell you used on him?” 

Hermione blushed hard, but kept her face passive. “Oh, it’s something we use at home.” She waited, hoping Ginny would drop the line of question but saw her sister-in-law looking at her for the answer. “Fine. It’s a magical charm, where the person who is charmed is, well, it’s like being blindfolded and can’t hear.” She blushed further. “He uses it on me occasionally, when we’re –“

“I get it,” she whispered hysterically and her eyes were full of mirth. “That’s bloody brilliant. We can’t turn down the lights in here or keep people from coming and going, to check on mum, so that’s the best you can offer him.” 

Hermione nodded. 

“Teach it to me later. I’d love to use that on Harry, too. He owes me for all of this mess, not telling me about Mum.” 

“Sure, if you want,” Hermione replied back. “Anyway, did you get to eat something?” 

“I wasn’t hungry earlier but Ron convinced me to eat up. He’s right, that starving myself doesn’t do mum any good.” 

“I thought you’d have learned that lesson from me by now.” She demonstrated having learned her lesson by finishing off the chicken and noodles Harry brought earlier. “It’s not cottage pie but it’ll do.” She grinned at Ginny before finishing her meal. 

A quiet settled between the sisters. Hermione retrieved her satchel for office documents and was working on them. 

“Hermione?” 

“Yes?” she didn’t look up from the parchment in front of her face. 

“I’m scared. What if Mum is hurt, like Neville’s parents?” 

Hermione put down the parchment in her hands and reached for her sister-in-law’s hand. “She’s not like them. She’s going to get better.” 

“You can’t know that and how can you be sure? Dark Magic leaves scars and other problems. You have as many scars as I do, not including everything that happened, the incidents that gave you nightmares and panic attacks.” Ginny slumped further into her own chair. “I’m not even talking physical complications. Ron explained what he did to Mum, magically. There’s no guarantee she’ll even wake up sane!” 

“Ginny,” She squeezed her hand again, and tried to offer some solace with her own fire tested faith. “I survived my ordeal and have healed from it, somewhat. Mum’s stronger than I am, and has plenty more reasons to come back to us.” Hermione conjured a handkerchief and handed it to Ginny. “You can’t give up, not for any reason. And if it is a worst case scenario, we’ll cross that chasm when we come to it. Until then, you have to stay strong. Mum needs you.” 

“Do we know if she was tortured? Was she, did he –“ The words stuck in her throat like an oversized sweet. 

“No, thankfully. The Healer checked her over. Ron would have been in more danger than Mum, in that regard. But he did hurt her, tried to strangle her, and until she wakes up and can tell us, we don’t know everything that happened.” 

Ginny stood up, pacing the five strides from Mum’s bed to the door. “I’m so angry. I’ve not been this angry in years, not since the Carrows were at Hogwarts. I get it. Mum’s here, not still in that bleeding house, being hurt. I know that Ron and Harry caught him and he’ll pay for hurting her. But what I’m feeling, that isn’t enough. I want to hurt him, badly, in the worst possible way. I want him to writhe in agony under my magic, feeling the pain I’m feeling right now. I want to use unforgiveables on him. 

“How dare he do this to Mum? I know she’s not perfect but damn it, she’s my Mum and no one hurts her, or Dad, for any reason. I want him screaming in agony for raising his wand against my parents.” She finished in a shout. 

“He’s going to pay for what he did. He won’t get shoved through the veil, and he won’t get Kissed but he will have to keep living his miserable existence for the rest of his life, in Azkaban.” 

“That’s not enough, Hermione. I want some of those punishments that Filch inflicted on us applied to him. I want him shackled to a wall for days, no food, just barely enough water to stay alive. I want him flogged with leather straps, left bleeding on the floor while being laughed at. Damn it, I want him to suffer like we are!” 

“It will have to be. The law was changed after the war ended,” Hermione replied. “We’re supposed to be civilized, not barbarians like the Deatheaters are. We’re better than they are. So we follow the law, as it’s written now.” 

“That’s bloody mental!” Ginny stared at the sleeping men in the corners of the room. “Damn Harry’s bloody law-biding morality. He made Ron promise not to hurt him. Harry made Ron promise to follow the law, and procedures, to keep him from hurting the kidnapper. And damn you for agreeing with it. But what about the pain Dad went through for all this. Don’t his actions count for something? Where’s the justice for Dad, and what he went through? Why is his suffering unimportant? Merlin, I’d give Dad my wand and let him handle Lestrange in a bloody cell.” 

“Stop, now.” Hermione stepped in front of her sister and stared up at her. “What you are craving is vengeance, not justice. That is an evil road to follow and you know it. All it does is shred your soul, and that’s not what Mum needs most right now.” 

“That’s assuming Mum wakes up,” Ginny whispered bitterly. 

“She will.” There was no hesitation in her answer. 

“Damn it, Hermione. You can be all optimism but I can’t, not ‘til she wakes up with her mind intact.” 

Hermione stepped back to look at Ginny closely. “What’s got a hair in your potion, Ginny? We’ve gone through this before and you’ve not acted this way. Talk to me.” 

“That’s my Mum, damn it. I’m perfectly entitled to be angry.” 

“Yes, you are, but what are you so angry about? What’s really irritating you?” 

Ginny pulled her wand in an instant and pointed it at the doors, silencing them. She pointed them at the sleeping men and cast a silencing spell around them too. “You know what I’m mad about?” 

“Tell me.” 

Ginny struggled to get the words out, not without taking it out on one of her best friends. “I couldn’t protect Mum. She’s –“ Ginny bit the words in half, chewing her lips like Hermione did when she was struggling to explain something. “She’s not young anymore. I dunno how much more she can take. And I wasn’t here to protect her. What if – “

“Shhh,” Hermione stopped her continued berating. “You can’t smother her like a child, Ginny. You have your life to lead, and a career that means everything to you. I know she was in a strop for a while when you said you wanted to move out and go play professional Quidditch. But she learned to manage, just like you did. You can’t stop living when something bad happens. You know better than I do.” 

Ginny stopped pacing. “Wait. You mentioned Charlie, and obviously Ron. George and Angelina came to get me. Bill broke the wards, eventually.” She pulled a face, one full of anger. “What about prattish Percy. Did he bother to help?” 

Hermione grinned. “You can’t be mad at him. He was busy acting like an owl between the Minister and the Aurors. Kingsley had to approve many of the Auror decisions since the Wizengamot was unavailable along with ministry solicitors including the Mugwump. He also spent hours the first day, helping me sort reams of information to find where the bloke lived. He also helped us track down some of the kidnapper’s movements before he hid on his family property in Plymouth. You might not believe it, but his knowledge helped us find her sooner.” 

Hermione took a sip of her cold tea. Figures she’d waste another cuppa. 

“We might have missed the deadline if Percy hadn’t helped us early on. We might have missed our deadline if Harry and Ron come up with their brilliant yet potentially illegal idea to get someone inside the property. Everything I did on this case was a failure. Auror Jones, our DADA teacher that last year at Hogwarts was the lead Auror on the case. But she was right.” Hermione paused for a moment to reinforce her composure. “I tried doing everything by the book and it wasn’t for a couple of days ‘til I realized that the damn book was useless. The Aurors knew that almost immediately yet, because I didn’t have the experience, that they were doing the right things. I was so focused on following the law when the law was a hindrance, not a help. Only when I followed their lead and listened to what they said did that work.” Hermione blew out a frustrated sigh. “Because I championed the law on Elves, trying to give them rights and protection, one which I fight to uphold daily, it means Ron and possibly Harry could be sacked. 

“But I took a bloody oath to support the law. How can I reconcile bad cases making worse law and the worse laws hindering the Aurors?” Hermione bit her lip, sharing her deepest thoughts. “But Ron was right. Harry was too. They had to make hard choices, ones that were absolute rubbish, to rescue Mum. I stood in their way when they were trying to save her life.” 

“What are you thinking, Hermione?” 

“I have so much going on in my head, right now. Everything I tried, failed. I absolutely and utterly failed. The only thing that did work was doing all of the original research to where the kidnapper lived. And that was only with Percy’s help that we had it sorted fast enough to come close enough in properties for the Aurors to verify the information. What if I’d been doing it alone? We’d have never made the deadline because I’d have given them too much information to sort and sift. We’d have never found her in time. And then I realize that sometimes, the law is too constraining. It hinders the law-biding where the corrupt and the ones intent on doing harm will break the law anyway. I was so hung up on the law that I lost sight of what they were trying to do.” 

“You’re being too hard on yourself, you know.” 

“Rubbish. I failed repeatedly on this case. Everything was either by the book when the book was gone, or my information was worthless or even pointless. Why did I bother with my last year of Hogwarts and studying to be a solicitor if everything I’ve learned has been useless?” 

“That’s mental, Hermione. I know you did more than you realize or take credit for.” 

“Do I?” Hermione stared at the sleeping witch in the bed. Her thoughts raced around like miniatures on brooms, trying to see who would win. “I think it’s time to do more than just advocate for the second-class citizens.” 

Ginny settled back into her chair. “You mean more than elves and centaurs and goblins, few of which don’t want your help?” 

Hermione argued in her head, going back and forth, destroying every argument she could articulate, including the emotive ones, to see if there was a weakness in her idea. But everything pointed back to her decisions, and it was a blindingly bright in comparison to a candlewick. 

“I’ve been contemplating a transfer, to MLS. The application has been on my desk for weeks, filled out but not submitted. I’m going to do it.” Hermione looked at her sister-in-law and saw the fire in her eyes. “There are people who do need my help, and would appreciate it. How many people could use a fierce advocate for them when they’ve been hurt? Don’t victims need someone in their corner, one who isn’t corrupted by pureblood bias, and fight for them, regardless of their class or status?” 

“You really want to do this, move into MLS and be a solicitor? You know it’s mad in there, and so Harry says, somewhat corrupt.” 

“Someone has to fight for the victims. Someone has to be a voice for the voiceless. I might as well pick up the mantle and help, not hinder the Aurors. I could use the time in the department, learning their methods and protocols, so I can help as best as possible, not butting heads every single time they have a messed up case. I think I can cope with Robards and the other Aurors, even if Ron’s technically in there too.” 

“And Ron?” 

Hermione looked at the sleeping men in the corner. “I think they’ll appreciate the help.” 

“Won’t that bring some nepotism issues, since you’re married now?” Ginny inquired. “I know that Dad and Percy can’t work together.” 

Hermione’s faced grew stern. “I dare them to try and sack Ron.” Her eyes radiated righteous fury. 

* * *

“Weasley family?” the evening medi-witch entered the room with a Healer trailing behind her. “We’re here to administer potions for Mrs. Weasley so she can sleep through the night. Healer Smalls-Fawcett’s orders.” 

“There’s no asphodel in any of her potions, is there?” Ginny asked warily. 

“No, there isn’t. Her chart has been noted and she will not receive anything that could compromise her health.” They worked efficiently, laying out the potions while the Healer on duty made notes on the parchment in her hands. 

Ron was asleep in his own bed, zonked out on his potions and sleeping draught. Harry was still fast asleep on his pallet in the corner. 

The Healer sealed the room and nodded to Hermione. She cast a silencing charm over Harry and his palate in the corner. Ginny went to stand at her Mum’s side, holding her hands while they worked magic over her, securing her to the bed. After her first waking, they wouldn’t take any more risks. 

Hermione watched while they gently revived Molly. Breaths were held while Molly ever so slowly opened her eyes. 

“Mum? It’s me, Ginny. Look at me.” Molly looked at her concerned daughter. 

She screamed bloody murder. 

“Mum, stop. It’s Ginny. You’re safe. No one’s going to hurt you.” 

Molly continued to wail like a banshee in abject terror. 

“Mum, please. You’re safe. We’re here to help.” 

Molly scrunched down in the bed as far as she could go, trying to hide under the blankets on her bed. She sobbed when the medi-witch approached her head. “No,” she wailed over and over. “Don’t touch me!” 

“Oh Merlin, Mummy!” Tears started falling down Ginny’s face. 

The healer worked quickly, administering the four required potions magically. Molly fell back asleep within moments. “We’ll try again in the morning, once her Healer is back on duty.” They used magic to adjust her in the bed, settling her into the bedclothes and making her sheets fresh and the pillows plumped. 

Both witches watched silently, huddled together for solace while they finished their tasks. “I’ll check back in at 2am.” The medi-witch followed the Healer out. “Do either of you want a calming draught?” 

“I do,” Ginny spoke up immediately. 

“I’m good, ma’am.” Hermione replied. She refused them unless absolutely necessary. 

Ginny collapsed into her arms and sobbed hysterically. Words were uttered and they made no sense but it didn’t matter. Solace was the only thing Hermione could offer and give, and that felt lacking. 

“When you get your potion, take it and settle down with Harry. You sleep here tonight and I’ll stay up with Mum.” 

“Promise?” 

“Absolutely. I’m not tired and I think my insomnia is acting up some with everything going on. I’ll keep an eye on Mum.” 

The medi-witch returned with a small vial of purple potion. “You’re not allergic, are you?” 

“I’m only allergic to elf-made wine, matron. I can take this.” 

She handed it over and Ginny swallowed it in one gulp. “Thank you,” She whispered and the matron smiled. 

“You rest. Your mum needs you, dearie.” She departed as silently as she entered. 

Hermione watched the matron leave. Ginny was trying to wipe her face and only succeeded in smearing the smattering of make-up she wore all over her eyes. “Damn it,” she growled. “Why’d they do that? She was resting comfortably.” 

“Those potions have to be administered every 8 hours. I asked the Healer this morning before you arrived. Otherwise she will wake and be worse off.” 

Ginny yawned. “I must be more tired than I thought.” 

“So go snuggle up to Harry and sleep ‘til morning. I’ll put a charm on you too, if you like.” 

“Please. And if you see Harry rutting against my arse,” 

“I’ll put a stop to it immediately.” 

Ginny yawned again while she settled into the transformed blankets. She dropped off to sleep with Harry throwing his arm over her waist. She was snoring shortly thereafter. 

Hermione picked up her pile of parchment with the intention of working on centaur rights into the night. 

“Wotcher, Hermione!” a voice greeted her from the doorway a little after one am. 

She looked up and saw Charlie standing there, slightly flushed from probably too much beverage from the pub. “Mum wake yet?” he slurred. “Ready for her to be home.” He stank of cigarette smoke, whiskey, and possibly a lady’s scent. 

“No, Charlie, not yet,” she replied patiently. “She’s still not well. The Healers administered her potions couple of hours ago. She was as upset earlier as she was this morning.” 

“I’m losing hope, Hermione. It’s been almost 24 hours and Mum’s still screaming. I dunno what I can do to help. Merlin, I can’t tell Dad what’s happening!” He paced the room, muttering under his breath and contorting his hands, from fists to release, and repeated it. 

Hermione sat in the chair on the opposite side of the room and kept her counsel. 

“And what the hell are you doing, besides sitting on your bum looking in that damn book.” 

“What would you have me do, Charlie? I’m training as a solicitor. I’m not a Healer. I don’t have the knowledge about mind diseases or curse damage. How can I possibly help except give support to Ron and Ginny and Harry, huh?” she yelled across the room. 

The sleeping occupants didn’t hear her tirade. 

“Then what the fuck are you good for then, huh?” 

“I’m here getting things done instead of going out and getting pissed in a pub and snogging on some tavern wench.” 

“Shut it,” He growled. “We don’t need your help, not when you’re just sitting on your arse.” 

“And you’re pissed. Get somewhere and sleep it off, Charlie. Floo back to the cottage but don’t come back up here ‘til you know what’s good for you!” 

He gave her a proper British salute and stumbled out of the room, uttering epithets while in a strop. 

She looked at the sleeping woman in the bed. “We need you back, Molly. They are missing you. Charlie’s right. He’s frustrated and angry, just like all of us are. He said what I can’t. I’ve got all this knowledge stuffed in my head and it’s completely useless. 

“I dunno how I can help you, Mum. I’m certainly no help for Ginny. I’m barely able to help Ron right now.” 

An epiphany hit her square. 

She looked at her watch and saw it was almost 2am. She’d have to go to the Ministry first thing, once Ron and Harry were awake. And she’d run a few errands while out before returning at 10am. 

The row with Ron over the galleons she was going to spend would be worth it. 

“It’s Mum.” 

She looked at her sleeping husband. 

“The family needs Mum back. I don’t think you can survive intact if she doesn’t return. This is tearing you all apart.”


	18. I declare you bonded

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** My solicitor wanted me to remind you that I don’t own copyright or IP to HP or anyone else, only the plot. But I would claim to have spent too much time in hospitals for comfort. - _DG_

* * *

Charlie slid back into the hospital room at half six with a copy of the Prophet in his hands. "Hermione? Anyone awake?" he whispered somewhat loudly. Hermione looked up from the book in her hands. Ron was still fast asleep, from the potions taken at 10pm. Harry and Ginny were asleep as well, curled up together like a pair of spoons hiding from the rest of the world. 

"Yes, Charlie?" 

He bit his tongue at seeing his sister in law like she hadn't slept all night. Her eyes were bloodshot and dark shadows hung under her eyes. Her lips were quite pale and her hair was shoved into a very messy bun. 

"I was rude to you earlier, wasn't I? I said stuff that I shouldn't have, didn't I?" 

"You were drunk and said what you thought needed to be said." She didn't expound further. Her lack of explanation, one who was so easy to talk a topic to death if it interested her, told him all he needed to know. 

"That bad, huh?" She looked at him and refused to answer any further, demonstrating how bad he mucked up. "Don't tell Ron, huh? He'd thump my head if he knew I disrespected you." 

She knew that was the best she would get in lieu of an apology from him. "Alright, I won't." 

He saw Ron asleep in his own bed as well as Harry and Ginny snoring softly together. "How are you already awake again?" 

"I don't sleep much when I'm stressed. So I read." 

"Oh." He glanced at the couple sleeping in the corner. "They had a row over Mum, didn't they?" 

Hermione turned her head towards them. "They did, mostly her being upset at Harry for not telling her." 

"You knew that would happen, didn't you?" 

"I did. I tried to get him to pen a note to tell her but Kingsley quashed it. And we were terribly busy." Hermione watched Harry shift in his sleep some and Ginny mimicked his movements, letting both of them get comfortable again. She saw the paper in his hands and the moving photograph, of Harry and Ginny rowing. "They should have found a private room to row in." She'd read the paper at the Ministry before she returned to the hospital. 

"Were you planning on staying here this morning with them until the healers return to wake Mum again?" 

"Going somewhere are you? What do you have in mind?" he changed the question. 

"Errands," she said cryptically. "I will be back by 10. Tell Ron he can owl me at my office in the ministry after 8." 

"And what are you doing?" 

"I'm getting Luna a round trip Portkey from New Zealand," as she was packing her beaded bag and her purse. "I need her help." 

"Are you barking? She's completely mental. Why would you spend galleons on someone who is barmy?" 

"Let me explain," bitter words dripped from her lips, "Luna is Ginny's best friend, more than me and Harry. Luna was there for Ginny that year at Hogwarts, before she was kidnapped. She was there our last year at Hogwarts. I don't know how to help her, not how she and Mum needs. Luna can. I have a head stuffed with knowledge, none of which can help anyone right now. But I can facilitate helping Ginny and Harry. You might not notice but Ginny is about a hair's breadth from falling apart entirely. Harry's run himself to the bone trying to rescue Mum and his job still isn't finished. He's barely available since he still has a duty to finish the case. 

"And honestly, Charlie, she's not mad. I learned that fact years ago. She's wise in ways I can't fathom but that doesn't mean that she can't help. So instead of complaining, shouldn't you be happy that someone can possibly help?" She pulled on her cloak and pulled it tight. "Tell Ron I'll be back in a couple of hours." 

"You think the Ministry will set up emergency Portkeys just because you demand it?" 

Hermione pierced him with a stern look. "Yes, I know they will. I just have to deal with Ron when it comes to paying for it." Hermione picked up the paper on the way out of the room, hearing Charlie yell at her for nicking his morning paper. She hustled to the lifts and made her way to the Ministry, reading it along the way. There would be a copy on her desk but seeing the picture on the front was too much temptation. 

**Harry's Harpy heaving Havoc at our Hero**

"Oh damn," she muttered when she saw the glaring headline in 60 point font. "It's worse than I thought. Harry's going to blow a fuse." 

Hermione apparated away from St. Mungo's to the apparition point for the Ministry. She looked out of the alley and saw no one at this early hour. She pulled the paper from her pocket and started walking towards the entrance to the Ministry. 

"Did they report on Mum's kidnapping? How did they find out about Ginny being here? How did a reporter get those facts?" 

She scanned the article and saw the usual rumor and innuendo, from a possible affair with her or even a wild idea that he was leaving Ginny for the notorious Draco Malfoy. The photo would be inflammatory enough, with Harry and Ginny both. She laughed when she read the line four paragraphs in, _"when approached for clarification and comment, Mr. Potter uttered a rather vile epithet and then realized he was speaking with a reporter. He added a barely contained_ No comment _onto his statement. The Daily Prophet will not print Mr. Potter's scathing epithet._

_"Representatives for Miss Weasley have yet to return our owls."_

"I bet she hadn't informed the Harpies yet. Silly sister of mine," She said once more before making her way around the corner to the Ministry entrances known as the public loo. "But how did the reporter even know about it?" 

Sure enough, the reporter hashed out the previous information, but the mention of them being possibly married was troubling. Did Ginny scream about that at Harry where someone else could have over-heard it? 

She walked to the Public loo entrance for the Ministry and saw it queued up 10 deep. She considered and realized that the Christmas Holiday was over and people were returning to work early to catch up on paperwork. 

She read the article once again to see if Mum was mentioned in it. Sure enough, at the end of the article, it said that there was a reporting on page three about the possible kidnapping and rescue of Molly Weasley. 

She took a step forward and scanned the rest of the article and saw a write-up on page three of the kidnapping of Mum. They had scant details, including a Ministry release saying they had a suspect in custody courtesy of the Aurors but wouldn't make a statement until the next day at the earliest. 

"It figures that they didn't want to release information until the Solicitor was back from Holiday and the Wizengamot could officially indict him." 

She stepped forward again and was next in line. She shoved the paper back into her satchel and patiently waited her turn. 

A quick flush and she was walking with a purpose, with the intention of stopping at the Minister's office before standing in the queue for the Portkey office. Percy would be in at half six, as was customary, since he was as dependable as the watch on her wrist. She made her way to the Minister's office and saw him at his desk, reading a stack of parchment. 

"Hermione," He said once he looked up from the stacks of parchment. Fear crossed his face. "Something wrong with Mum? Is she worse? Do I need to come immediately? Tell me what's wrong. I'll inform -"

"Easy, Percy. She's fine and still asleep when I left. Ron, Harry, and Ginny are in the room with her, fast asleep too. Charlie showed up and said he'd stay 'til someone woke. But I'm here because I need an owl sent to New Zealand." 

"New Zealand? What gives?" 

"I want the Office to Owl Luna and have her come back here as fast as possible." 

"Luna? How can she help?" 

Hermione looked around and saw no one else in the Minister's office was present yet. Only Percy was in so early and stayed so late. 

"I can't help Ginny like Luna can. Charlie came by at half one this morning, completely pissed. He said things," she hesitated at admitting more to what he said. 

"Charlie's like George. They say stuff when they are inebriated. They don't mean it, not that way." 

"He was right about one thing. I can research until I'm green and have grown gills but I'm completely ineffective at providing her emotional support. She needs more help than I am capable of offering, not while Ron is still hurting. I refuse to choose between then so I need Luna's help. I just don't know what else to do." She looked up and saw that Percy understood her perfectly. "But Luna can help where I can't." 

"What you're asking is unusual. We normally send those notices for Ministry personnel in family emergencies"

"This is a family emergency – yours. This isn't about me, Percy. This is about Ginny, and Ron, and the family. I'm worthless when it comes to this." 

"Portkeys are expensive. Even sending an Owl that way is pricy." 

"So I'll pay it out of my own galleons. It's either that or watch the family shatter. You know that Mum and Dad are the glue. If Mum is broken, which is still possible, it's going to tear the family apart." She took a deep breath, trying to steady her emotions so she wouldn't cry over her own frustrations. The small ember of anger threatened to overwhelm her, even if it was with Percy. 

"I will not stand aside and watch it obliterate because of the actions of one demented wizard with a grudge. That's why I'm doing it. I can't save the family but maybe I can buy some time for everyone until Mum improves." 

"Alright. I'll help. I'll draft a notice for the New Zealand Ministry and get in touch with them today, on the Minister's Authority. But we might not hear anything for a few hours." 

"Thank you. I'm going by the Portkey office and prepaying for her keys to return." 

"Ron's going to blow a fuse over that." 

"I know but this isn't for me. This is for Mum, and Ginny, and the family. I'll deal with his anger after the dust settles." 

"Are you sure? The Healer said that she's going to improve in a few days." 

"Can the family endure such hardship? Charlie's already heavily drinking. Dad's coping on sleeping draughts at night. George hasn't been back since he got shirty in the room yesterday afternoon. Ron's going to be a menace once his brain bruise heals up. And who knows about Bill since he's been so quiet. I'm sure Fleur is trying to help him cope and keep the family intact. So what can we do?" 

Hermione took a deep breath and prayed that Percy wouldn't betray what she was about to say. 

"Do you want Ginny walking away from her career to care for Mum, if she doesn't recover? She's already talking about giving up Quidditch to care for Mum and Dad." 

"She can't," he spoke quietly. Percy took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. He looked much like his father, down to the fading hairline. "She'd regret it all her days, like I do." 

"And I'm not even mentioning the rage going on inside her. If Mum's condition turns into weeks, or months, especially without Ginny getting emotional support to cope, do you want to deal with her hexing people, including your siblings, into oblivion? I sure don't." Hermione slid into the wood chair and slouched. "I can handle her anger. I can cope with her sorrow. But I have no clue how to actually help. But Luna can." 

"You think she can help Ginny?" 

"She'll be able to help Ginny, so I can help Ron. It makes sense." She threw her head back and focused on her breathing. The insomnia was crushing her and without help, she'd explode at the worst possible moment. "So tired I can barely think." 

"I'll have a note sent off within the hour, for you. I don't want Ginny hexing me either. But getting a response might take a few hours, depending on where she is there." 

"That's fine. I'll be in my office until half nine then I'm heading back to the hospital. The Healers are going to try and wake her again at half ten." 

"I'll be there." 

* * *

"Hermione? I'm thirsty." Ron groaned from his bed on the other side of the expanded room. "Bring me some tea, wouldya?" 

"I'm not a house elf, you git." 

Ron opened his eyes a touch and saw Charlie sitting in Hermione's chair, reading the morning daily Prophet. "Where's she at?" 

"She stepped out to run errands. She said to tell you that she'd be back by 10 when they wake Mum again." 

Charlie stood up from his own chair. "And now that you're awake, I can go back to Shell Cottage and get a shower and a fresh shirt on. I'll bring Dad back up with me, along with Fleur and Bill and Victorie." 

"Charlie?" 

He stopped in front of Ron's bed. "Yeah troll?" 

"Thanks for helping rescue Mum. I couldn't do it, not on this mission." 

"Why didn't you tell me that you were going under juice as Dad? I'd have done that for you." 

"You're stronger than I am, barely, but you're not trained as an Auror. They needed me in there, in the middle of it all, keeping my head on straight. I couldn't know about Mum. I would have killed the bastard for hurting her, whether he raised a wand at me or not. Harry promised me he'd keep quiet 'til he was arrested and Mum safely away." Ron squinted some at his brother. "If anyone is risking their life to rescue Mum, I'd do it, along with Harry and the other Aurors. Someone had to keep Dad safe and out of harm's way." 

Charlie appraised the brother in the bed, pointedly ignoring his sister and supposed husband snuggled up asleep on a pallet in the corner. "I always knew you'd make something of yourself. You could have been a washed out git, but instead, you're this larger than life legend of a man and going way beyond being the hero." Charlie smiled. "Yeah, I think you've done pretty damn good." 

"Maybe Harry rubbed off on me some," Ron cheeked. 

"No, I think you got your backbone from that wife of yours. She's very good for you. But since this is about Mum, and Dad, and not about your wife, I'd remember that if things go sideways. So when I bring Dad back, you best be smiling and in good cheer. Dad needs all the help we can give him." 

"What do you mean?" 

"You'll see when I get back up here with him. But you're going to help him, even if you're not released from care yet." 

"I will," Ron agreed and watched his brother depart. 

Ron glanced over at the corner at the sleeping couple and averted his eyes. 

"Merlin, I don't need to even think about them like that, while they're sleeping." He shut his eyes and dozed back off to sleep. 

He'd only had his eyes shut for what seemed a second when he heard the row. Those two gits were trying to be quiet about it but certain words drifted in his ears and refused to leave. _Pillock, knobhead, asshole, Daily Prophet._

_"Would you two twits knock it off? Gonna give me a bloody brain bleed from all your rowing!"_ They fell quiet and Ginny said a few more coarse things to Harry. 

Ron kept quiet while trying to keep her temper away from him. 

"I'll be back when they wake Mum at 10. I need a shower and a change of clothes." 

"I'm coming with you," Harry retorted and grabbed his ruck to run out after her, "cause we're not finished." 

"No we're not," Ginny snarled before they left the room. 

"Finally," Ron leaned back into his bed. "Mum, looks like it's just us this morning 'til everyone else returns." Ron moved around in the bed and untangled the sheets from his pasty legs and put them on the cold tile. "Sure wish I could get you to wake, Mum. Place is going barmy without you." He threw a robe on because he wasn't going to flash his arse at anyone except Hermione – at home. 

He picked up a copy of the Daily Prophet left in the room and saw the photo on the front. Harry and Ginny were rowing, with fingers pointed and, even in black and white he could tell that it was one for the ages. Ron continued to read the paper while sitting in the chair next to Mum's bed. Medi-witches came and went, along with an orderly who brought a paltry breakfast for him. 

"Got any bangers too?" 

"I'm sorry Mr. Weasley but I'm sure that your lunch will be more substantial." She departed without leaving anything else. 

"I need to get outta here. Meals are rubbish." Ron looked over and saw Molly in the bed with a frown on her face. "I'm not asking you for breakfast, Mum. Hermione's not you when it comes to cooking but she's fair enough." 

Her face settled down a little bit. 

"I know you hear me. You don't have to cook for me again if I can just get you to wake up like Hermione." 

Her breathing settled down again. 

"Though Mum, if you go past the third day, I'm going to be a trifle bothered. I don't want you scaring me like Hermione did. That was a rough go of it, I reckon." 

"Talking to yourself again, Ron?" 

"Just talking to Mum." Ron looked up from his paper and saw Bill and Fleur standing in the doorway. "Where's Victorie?" he inquired first. 

"Andromeda came calling this morning. She said she would stay at the residence for us today, keeping Victorie while we came up to see Mum. Teddy wanted to play in the sand." 

"I'm sure he did since it's the middle of the bloody winter. He's barmy already, I reckon." 

Bill and Fleur came into the room. Bill leaned over Mum and kissed her quickly on the cheek. She didn't stir. Fleur watched and instead of squeezing her very pregnant belly, she found Molly's hand and put it to her cheek. She whispered a few things in French that Ron couldn't fathom at all before Fleur returned Molly's hand back to the bedclothes. 

"Where is everyone else?" 

"Harry and Ginny were here earlier but they were rowing over the bloody newspaper before they left. Charlie was here 'til I woke and said Hermione left at half six to run errands before she'd return." 

"Have you seen George or Percy yet?" 

"If they've been by, they didn't wake me." 

"Their loss," Bill muttered before he started helping Fleur get settled into a comfortable chair. 

"Comfortable, dear?" 

"As well as I can be since I'm fat like a sow." 

"C'est tres belle, ma chere," Bill responded with a kiss on her cheek. "What can I get you?" 

"I'm fine right now. I brought my knitting I can do today for Victorie and the baby." 

* * *

_Knock Knock._

Charlie opened the door for Dad. Bill saw the panic on Ron's face and silenced his concerns with one hard look. 

Arthur toddled into the room on Charlie's arm. Arthur was bent over, like he had an over-sized ruck on his back and his face sported two days' worth of white beard. His face was sagging, like he'd lost weight overnight while his eyes were bloodshot and tremendous bags under his eyes. Even his clothes draped off him, like he'd put on Bill's clothes by accident. 

Dad didn't acknowledge anyone in the room. He took his spot next to the bed in his vigil at his wife's side. 

Glances were shared among the siblings before Bill motioned towards the door. Charlie followed and motioned for Ron to come with them. The three men finally got past the closed door to the room before Bill silently muffled it. "Before you start, Ron, there's nothing we can do about Dad that we've not tried with him. Fleur keeps trying to get him to eat and it's just not working. Maybe you can get him to eat something." 

"Me? What can I do?" He looked back in the room and looked at the crumbling figure of his father next to the bed. He looked back. "Merlin, why haven't you called in a healer for him? He looks older than Dumbledore did!" 

"Shut it, Ron!" Bill restrained Charlie. He still smelled of cigarette smoke and whiskey. Bill kept Charlie an arm's length away from Ron. "Look at him. I mean really look. He's wasting away: another week of this and he's going to fall down dead over the strain of it. We've done everything we can with him and it's not working. But we're not Dad's favorite." 

"I'm not his favorite. That's Ginny," Ron brushed aside the realization. Ron saw the strain on Bill's face and the anger just under the surface of Charlie's. "I'm not free of a Healer's care yet, so it's not like I can go out and get him something to eat." 

"You tell me and I'll go get it, Ron." Charlie's face was resolute. "I won't stand here and watch Dad waste away. Now think, damn it!" 

Ron shook his head trying to clear the residual cobwebs from his head. "Madame Rosemarta. She makes a mean steak and kidney pie. Get it along with a roast beef sandwich with lots of mustard." 

"Dad's not going to eat both of that!" 

"The sandwich is for me, git. The food here is rubbish. But I know Dad will eat her cooking, well, at least he does when I take him out for a dinner when Mum's with Ginny." 

Bill and Charlie were grousing with one another. "Fine then. Give me 10 galleons and I'll go fetch it." 

"I'll cover for it, Ron, since you're not in your normal trousers." 

"Hermione has my galleon sack with her, probably." Bill counted out the coins for Charlie. 

"Probably has more than that, I reckon." 

Bill cuffed Charlie on the shoulder. 

Ron smirked at Charlie's cheek. "Yeah, she does, and I don't regret it. But being in a hospital room with Mum isn't very romantic and my brain bruise still hurts to think." 

"Sorry," he replied contritely. "I'll go get that for you and Dad and be back in a tic." 

The men watched Charlie leave and they returned to the room. Fleur was sitting in the corner with her bag open, knitting a hat and matching mittens. 

"Sorry I'm late," Percy came into the room, panting like he'd run all the way from the Ministry. "I was in the middle of another meeting when it broke. Have they started with Mum yet?" 

Three sets of eyes looked at his all out of sorts and smiled. "You're not late. They've not been in yet." 

"Charlie just left to get Dad some brunch." 

"Oh. Well. Sorry. I'll just – "

"Sit your ass down and wait with the rest of us, you prat." Ron smiled at Percy. 

"If you insist, I will." Percy pulled a chair from the hallway and sat in a corner, going over all of the parchment he brought with him. Within minutes, he was engrossed in his work once again. 

At a quarter to ten, Hermione returned with a satchel of paperwork. "Since Ron's still in here, they let me work from here." She showed her satchel, stuffed with books and parchment and a bevy of ink and quills. "I can stay as long as need be this week, since I was actually caught up last week." 

"You think George will show up this morning?" Ron asked. 

"I dunno," Bill replied. "I bet he's crashed out at the flat after traveling so much on so little sleep." 

"Well, it looks like all that remains is Charlie and Ginny." 

"I'm here." He brought two sacks in with him. "Rosemarta was rather testy with me this morning 'til I explained why I wanted a steak and kidney pie at half nine in the morning. She did charge me an extra two galleons for the inconvenience." Charlie handed back four galleons and some sickles. 

Ron took the sacks back to his bed and crawled into it for a tic. He saw Charlie and Bill giving him the once-over. "Dad, I've got plenty here. How about a bite?" 

Arthur turned and saw Ron in his bed with the food spread out. "I'm not really hungry. Thanks anyway." 

Ron saw Fleur shake her head slightly. Her sad face told him that Dad wasn't eating. 

"I can't eat all of this steak and kidney Pie. But I know it's one of your favorites. Help me eat this." 

"Mum needs me to be here, with her." 

"You need to eat. Please?" Ron quietly begged. He held a fork out for his father and refused his own meal until he took a bite. "I'm not eating 'til you do." 

A collective breath released as Arthur took breakfast. 

* * *

_Knock Knock._

A medi-witch stuck her head in the room and saw it crowded. "We'll be in shortly." She left and a few minutes later, returned with a tray of potions, followed by Healer Smalls-Fawcett. 

"We're going to try and wake her again." 

"Will today be any different, Healer?" Bill spoke up when Dad didn't stir from his vigil. 

"We're going to bring her out slower, and keep her on the potion, but a much smaller dose. This will hopefully keep her calmer than yesterday. There are some risks, like a potential for addiction, but we need her awake first before we can decide on any further course of action in her treatment." 

The gathered family watched the medi-witch preparing the potions by her bedside. She poured out a half-vial into a dainty goblet. 

"I hope the protocol changes will help her," the Healer said to no one in particular. 

"How strong is the calming draught?" 

"It's our standard one, not the one she's allergic to. I had it made up overnight just for her benefit. It's strong, but not as strong as we can make it. It should work to let her slowly come out of her sleep, and slowly acclimate back to her normal. Unlike yesterday, we're going to take our time waking her up." 

The others kept silent, waiting on Dad to give his approval. 

"The worst is that you let Mum sleep until tomorrow, right?" 

"For now, Mr. Weasley. At some point, we can't continue these medications because of the potential for harm." 

"We'll deal with it when it happens. But I don't think it'll be necessary." 

"Very well," Healer Smalls-Fawcett replied. "Ready when you are, Miranda." He pointed his wand at Molly and waited on the medi-witch. She did the first incantation, waking her from her potion induced slumber when the Healer administered the second calming draught. With his wand working slowly, unlike previous attempts, he worked diligently, methodically, and the family watched the color return to her cheeks and neck. A white blanket, the kind that is mass produced and industrial washed with all the other linens, hid the rest of her. No one else wanted to think about the magical restraints on her wrists, to keep her from really hurting herself or the medical staff. 

Minutes ticked off and the family watched for any sign of wakefulness. The attending medi-witch took notes while discussing the case with the healer. 

"She moved," Charlie quietly said. "I think she's coming out." 

The rest moved forward, watching Molly slowly shift in the bed, moving her feet first. 

"This is just the early stages. It might take another hour before she opens her eyes. But we need her fully awake to determine her mental state." The Healer looked from his observation to the family behind him. "Until she's awake there's no way to verify medically." 

The Healer turned back to Molly in the bed while entire conversations passed wordlessly behind his back. Only Charlie was talking quietly to Ron, with Dad standing on the other side of the bed, ignoring the others. His focus was only on Molly. 

An aching groan startled the occupants later. Only Arthur kept his vigil, watching his wife intently. 

"Dad, come sit. I'll keep Mum company." 

He shook his head at Charlie's request. Everyone else turned away when the saw Arthur wiping his eyes on the sleeve of his shirt. 

"Arthur, how can I help?" 

"You all have done so much," he shook his head and wiped his face a second time. "It's like I'm stuck in a nightmare and I can't wake from it." 

"You know we're here. You're not in this alone. None of us are leaving your side." 

Molly's hand shook again. He brought it to his face and pressed it into his sallow cheek. 

"I know, but this is also something that you kids don't truly understand. Sure, you are close as can be to Ron, and Harry, and Ginny too. Bill and Fleur have some inkling by now. But it's one thing to be best friends with someone. It's completely different to be married to your best friend for thirty plus year." He looked up and smiled for a moment before exhaustion yanked it off his face. "You'll be there, someday, and when you do, you'll understand this moment. But I pray that you never do." 

Arthur turned his attention back to his wife in the bed. She was moving more, looking agitated, and groaning occasionally. "Is this normal, Healer?" 

"Actually, it is, but with patients that have been severely injured. There might be some initial confusion, until we can get her mind clear of the potions. That'll help in the diagnosis." The medi-witch who was taking notes nodded in affirmation. 

"Hang in there with us. We've plenty of experience in these matters, especially during the war and immediately afterwards." 

"How bad was it then, Healer Smalls-Fawcett?" Arthur asked. 

"Miranda, how many did we have in the immediate aftermath? What, 200 or so? It was bad that night and the next day. Everyone who had any medical training was called in and helped in some capacity." He looked over his shoulder at Hermione. "I think I got four hours of sleep over the course of four days, considering how bad things were. That was truly a worst case situation, the kind you see in Muggle Wars or a rogue Dragon torching the countryside." 

Molly moaned again, louder and longer this time. Arthur leaned over and kissed his wife on the cheek, whispering words of comfort for her. Hermione tried to ignore the prickles in her eyes or the crushing pain in her heart. 

The Healer pointed his wand at Molly and performed a wordless incantation. "Talk to her, Arthur. Encourage her to come back to us." 

Arthur did as asked, murmuring softly in Molly's ears. Hermione pulled her wand and wordlessly enveloped the couple under _Muffliato_ , giving them some semblance of privacy. "That was nice of you. But you should know we've heard everything, good and bad. We don't notice, honestly." "That wasn't because of you, Healer Smalls-Fawcett. That was to keep the rest of us hearing it. We didn't need to know. You can hear them, but we," she waved her hand around to the rest of the family, "we can't." Hermione let a ghost of a smile cross her face. "Just like I don't want others to know what my husband and I talk about, some things aren't anyone else's business." 

"Ah, that makes sense. Carry on." 

Hermione picked up the stack of parchment she needed to work through, letting the healer and the medi-witch do their job. Bill and Charlie were talking with Ron and Percy on the other side of the room. Fleur was watching them fiercely while her fingers continued to work the knitting needles in her hands. 

Bits of conversation floated in the room, most of it unimportant. 

"So I said to the other trainer, 'Just jump on him and ride him down.' And the bloke did. That was one crazy git." Charlie snorted. 

"What happened to him?" Ron inquired from his bed. 

"He got torched the next week when he got too close to a horntail with a sore tooth. He didn't know what happened before he perished." 

"That's not good," Bill added. 

"Yeah, I know," Charlie retorted. "I worked double shifts that fortnight 'til we could hire more help." 

The men looked up at Hermione who was giving them a stern look. 

"Having fun?" 

"Sorry. We got to talking," Charlie offered his excuse. "Just a bit of work gossip. Anything with Mum yet?" 

Hermione looked over the edge of the bed and saw her moving a little more. "Dad's still talking to Mum and she's not awake yet." She blushed, unexpectedly. "Sorry. I'm on edge too." 

Ron got up from his bed and went to Hermione's side. He shook his head for a second before putting his hands on her knee. "You're helping so much," Ron rumbled under his breath. "You're helping me stay sane through this." 

Hermione blushed harder while looking at her husband. "Thanks," She whispered back before kissing his palm. "You think George and Ginny will be back before she wakes?" 

Ron glanced up at his weeping father and turned his head back, taking a calming breath and trying to find some coherent words. "George won't, that git. Ginny will be mad as fire if Mum wakes and she's not here." 

"Ron, I don 't – "

He put a long finger on her lips. "You think I do? I'm barely holding on myself. I dunno how to help Dad 'cept what we're already doing." 

She kissed his finger and saw his brother intentionally looking away. "She has to wake. I don't know what your Dad would do without her." 

"I don't want to know either." 

Hermione pointed her wand back at the couple and the voices picked up once more. Arthur's voice was evident once more. "I'm ok. Thanks," she smiled at him. 

Ron went back to his bed and snorted. "This is in the way." He shoved it into the other corner, watching his brothers smirk at him. "Well it was!" He stepped outside for a second to get another couple of chairs for the room. He left one by the door and brought the other next to Hermione. He settled in next to her, while the three brothers sat on the other side of the bed, watching the Healer and medi-witch watch Mum. 

And they waited. 

"I'm here," Ginny uttered, panting from exertion. "Sorry. Harry got called into work and I fell asleep and just now awoke." 

Everyone except Hermione nodded and turned back to the bed. Only Hermione saw the blush on her cheeks and up her ears to know that there was more to the story than just sleeping. She winked at her sister-in-law and watched Ginny smirk back. 

"Mum's not fully awake yet. You're fine." Ginny threw her purse on Ron's bed in the corner of the room and pulled a chair up next to Hermione on the other side. 

"He got a Patronus from Robards and had to go into the Ministry for an update on something relating to the case. I'm sure he'll be by later once he deals with them and testifies at the preliminary hearing before the Wizengamot. I heard Robards say that they are sending the kidnapper to Azkaban to await his trial and Harry's testimony before the Mugwump was vital to keep him in there." 

An hour ticked by with Arthur continuing the vigil. Molly moved more, moaned some, and even grunted once when Arthur begged her to squeeze his hand. 

"Is there anything else we can do for her, to wake her faster? She seems to be taking longer to wake." Arthur pulled Molly's other hand to his and held them. 

"It shouldn't be much longer. She's articulating which is good," The Healer replied. 

"Healer, she's grunting. That's not talking." Charlie questioned the Healer's comment. "It sounds like Ron before breakfast." 

"Twat," Ron mouthed at Charlie's cheek. The Healer ignored Ron's crass comment. 

"But she's responding to your requests. That's articulating and it's what we're looking for." 

"Healer, look at this," the medi-Witch spoke up. "She's coming out of it." 

Five additional heads rushed up to the bedside and watched Molly grimace in confusion, followed by opening her eyes. 

"Hi," Arthur said first. 

"Mum," Charlie, Ron, and Ginny spoke all at once. 

"Mrs. Weasley," The Healer spoke up. 

**"NO!"** She croaked. "No, get away from me!" she shrieked. Molly scrunched up into the bed, putting her arms over her head. "Don't hurt me!" 

"Everyone, quiet." The healer barked at all of them. He turned back to the bed and saw Molly cowering. "Mrs. Weasley," he spoke softly. "I'm Healer Smalls-Fawcett. You're safe. You're at St. Mungo's. No one's going to hurt you." 

Molly pulled the covers over her head. 

"Miranda, get Healer Reeves in here. We're going to need her help." The medi-witch departed for the other floor. The healer turned back to the bed. "Mrs. Weasley, no one's going to hurt you. You're safe. Please lower the covers." 

Arthur pulled the blanket with his fingers, delicately pulling it away from her claw-like grasp. Molly pulled herself tighter, refusing to look at anyone. "Mollywobbles, it's Arthur. Please lower the blanket." 

She refused and yanked the blanket harder, hiding under the covers as deep as she could burrow into them. Charlie lifted the side and Molly turned away from him. "Charlie, stop!" Arthur yelled. 

"I was afraid of this. Her recovery will take longer than I hoped for." 

"What does that mean?" Ron growled out. "The fuck are you saying?" 

"Do you see how she's hiding? See how she won't look at anyone?" The healer didn't wait for an answer. "That indicates a problem with her brain. Whether it's out of fear, because of her ordeal, or from the damage of the spell, I can't say for certain. That's why I've called Healer Reeves to help diagnose what's wrong. Unfortunately, my specialty isn't spell damage. I can diagnose that there's a problem, but I don't have the knowledge to identify what's wrong, cure it, or make it better." 

"Can you say for certain she'll improve and recover?" 

The Healer looked at Charlie. A stoic mask was plastered on his face. "I don't know. She might be addled from the overlapping bonds and dark charms put on her. It might be temporary or it might be permanent. I just can't say for certain. That's why I need Healer Reeves in here now." He looked at Arthur. "But until then, don't give up hope. She needs it, as much as you can give her." 

Her moaning stopped once the Healer dosed her on a sleeping draught. "We'll try again later today, once she's calmed down completely." 

Ginny stood up and stalked out. 

"I'll take care of her," Charlie barked out before chasing Ginny out of the room. 

"Dad, what can we do?" Bill begged. "Tell us how to help you." 

"I don't know." He sat down in the chair Charlie shoved away and wept into Molly's blanket. 

Charlie turned a corner and saw her ginger hair racing out the double doors. He sped up trying to catch her as she ran to the lifts. 

"Midget, stop!" 

She punched a button on the lift and he ran on tired legs chasing after her. "Stop, damn it!" He slid into the lift and crashed into the back wall as the doors closed behind him. "Shite, I can't keep up with your short legs." He looked up and quit complaining. 

Ginny was crying. 

"Hey, come here," he begged and she fell into his arms. 

He punched a button and took them up towards the roof of the building. 

"Where are we going? I can't be seen out there, not like this." 

"Hush, you. We're going to a quiet spot away from it all." 

They rode the slow lift upwards to the topmost floor. He stepped out first and saw no one on the hallway. He pulled Ginny out of the lift and they walked to the first open room he found. Sure enough, there was on the left, overlooking Westminster. He opened the door and led his sister into the room. 

Inside were filing cabinets, old beds, wood supports for beds, chairs older than Aunt Muriel and other hospital rubbish from years gone past. 

"Now, have at it. Do what you need to do. Whatever happens in here stays here." He stepped back out and locked it. He'd watch through the window and see how bad off his baby sister really was. 

Ginny pulled her wand and started casting spells all over the room. The filing cabinet exploded all over the room, spraying metal shards everywhere. 

He silenced the door as best as possible and looked up and down the hallway, seeing no one around. 

Another spell sheared the rubbish mattress, spraying feathers into the air. Another spell swirled them around like a tornado, keeping Ginny in the middle while she fire spell after spell after spell after spell. 

She turned and fired another one at a wooden wardrobe in the corner and incinerated it, using the feathers in the room to stifle the fire. 

She stepped forward and blasted the wooden chair, spraying splinters everywhere. None affected her, as he could see, but the rage in her soul hadn't wound down yet. 

"Merlin, it was smart of me to stay out of her way." 

"Yeah, you were." 

Charlie jumped up into the air and saw Bill laughing at him. "You put tempest in a teapot in there?" 

"Safest place I could think of." 

"She done yet?" 

Charlie looked into the room and saw it was repaired and she was trashing it once again. "Nope. Not even wound up yet." 

"You remember when you shoved me in there?" 

"Sure do. Mum was downstairs, birthing that baby dragon in there. You were so upset and Dad couldn't leave the others alone so he asked me to drag you up here." 

"And Dad stayed downstairs with Percy, the twins, and Ron too. But then Ron was a toddler – "

"And he kept crying because Dad was crying – "

"And the twins kept making silly faces at Ron to get him to quit crying – "

"And all they did was make Percy laugh and Ron cry harder." 

Charlie glanced in the room and saw Ginny shaking violently, kneeling on the ancient tile floor. Her wand had rolled out of her hand, given up in bereavement. 

"We can go in now." He opened the door for Bill and they slid into the room. "Hey you," Bill spoke up first. 

Charlie sat down across from Ginny while Bill pulled her into a hug. "Finally burned the fire out?" 

"I'm so fucking tired." 

"You're not alone, sis." 

"No, but if Mum's stuck up here, it'll fall on my head to take care of her." She looked up and saw both of them regarding her. "It's not like you'd move home, Charlie, or you'd give up traveling abroad for Gringott's." 

"We wouldn't do that to you." Bill spoke up first. 

"Hell no. Wherever did you get that idea?" Charlie added. 

Ginny pulled one of Harry's handkerchiefs from her pocket. She imitated an erumpet while blowing her nose. "I won't stand here and accept that Mum is this way. I refuse to believe that she's going to be stuck like this for months or years." 

"She's not, Ginny." 

"You heard the Healers. It'll just take a little longer." 

"She's improving." 

"And both of you are fools," She yelled bitterly. "She's going to be stuck in here, like Neville's parents, and she's going to be broken and I can't stand it!" She screamed at both of them. "I want my fucking husband here instead of you pathetic sods but he's at the Ministry, testifying against the asshole who did this to her so the fuckstrumpet stays in Azkaban until his trial with the Wizengamot." 

Charlie snorted at her. "You don't know that, just like the Healer working on her case doesn't know that. And quit taking it out on us!" 

"You can't give up Ginny." 

She stood up from the floor and scowled at her brothers. "Fuck a dragon for all I care. I'm not giving up. But I won't wait on feckless Healers who are paid by the hour. Fuck them. I'm doing something about Mum. You hear me?" 

She stormed out of the room, leaving them on the ground. 

"She's still a tempest in a teapot," Bill cheeked. "I dunno about you, brother of mine, but I'm going back to the room and talking with my wife." 

"I'll meet you back there. I want to go get a cup of tea. My ears are still ringing at Ginny screaming at us." 

"Maybe you can rouse the other petulant brother and he can join us up here for a nice family brawl in the ward?" 

"Merlin, you think I want him screaming at Ginny? I'm just a lowly Dragon handler but even I know when something is too big to chew. I'd be hard pressed to make a bet between George and Ginny." 

* * *

"Mr. Weasley?" 

Five heads turned to the Healer who just came into the room. "I'm Healer Lewis. Healer Cooper has the day off. How are you feeling?" 

Ron snorted. "I'm the patient, not him." He laughed at Percy's discomfort. "But I'm sure he needs more help than we can offer him." 

"You're hilarious, Ron." 

"My apologies," The Healer smirked before turning back to the paperwork in front of him. "The other Healer left notes on your condition. But you seem to be doing better, given the extent of your injuries." 

"My head is still a little fuzzy, like I've had a couple of shots of Firewhiskey." 

"Given your condition, that's expected. But if you'd like, we can release you from our care, as long as you are off duty a couple of weeks and take it easy at home." 

"You mean I can get outta here? Get some real food?" 

"That's Ron for you, always thinking with his stomach." 

He made a rude gesture behind his back. 

"But before I sign off on your release from our care, I need to give you a through physical. If you mind," the Healer motioned to his bed and pulled the curtain behind him. Ron sat on the edge of the bed and watched the healer move his wand to his face. 

Hermione slid behind the pulled curtain and winked at Ron. He kept thinking of Mum in the next bed and hated the thought of leaving her behind but getting a real meal was terribly tempting. 

"Do you have any dizziness, shortness of breath, visual distortions, strange sensations?" 

"I'm just fuzzy in the head, and hearing my sister rowing with her husband this morning was hard enough." 

"Loud sounds will be painful for a while. Bright lights will hurt some too. But if there's no nausea, vomiting, dizziness, fainting, or loss of appetite – "

"Loss of appetite? Merlin, I'm starving like I've not eaten in a week." 

Ron saw Hermione blanche and whispered _Sorry_ to her. 

"You're funny Mr. Weasley. But if you promise to rest at home, and take your potions we give you, I'll release you from our care. You can side-along apparate but no Portkey or Floo for at least another week." The healer signed off on the parchment and handed it to Hermione. "If any symptoms return, bring him back in." The healer walked back out. 

Hermione stepped over to her husband's side. "You want to go home?" 

"I want to sleep in my own bed. It's just more comfortable." Ron saw Hermione blushing. He leaned over and whispered, "I know what you did that first night. It helped. It really did." 

She blushed harder. "If you want, I'll run over to the Leaky and get you something else to eat right now." 

Ron's stomach grumbled. "Would you? The nosh here is rubbish." 

"But I'll be back and we can stay until they kick us out." 

Ginny walked back into the room and threw herself into an unoccupied chair. Ron and Hermione saw the remnants of her strop still crusted on her face. 

"Ginny, Hermione's going to the Leaky to get me a late lunch. Want anything?" 

She turned and Ron bit off his cheeky retort. Rage burned in her eyes. 

"Yeah. I want Mum back."

"I do too," Arthur whispered.


	19. You may now

* * *

"Weasley family?"

A few heads looked up at the new medi-witch coming into their room. "Yes?" 

"I'm Medi-witch Elise. I'm the duty witch for tonight for Mrs. Weasley." She brought in a tray of potions with her. "I'll have a meal sent up for Mrs. Weasley in a little while. She might be hungry to eat something this evening, after not eating much lunch." 

"Speaking of food, I'm hungry." 

"You're always hungry, Ron. You could eat half a hippogriff and still ask for pudding." 

"And you're a git, Bill." 

"That's enough, both of you." Fleur corrected. "If you want to row, do it at home." 

"Yes, Fleur." Ron didn't say another word but his ears spoke for him. 

"Yes love." Bill glared at his brother but did as his wife asked. 

"Elise," Fleur put down her knitting and looked at the older witch. "I don't understand. Why didn't the healer that was in here earlier perform _Expuo tenebris daemonium_ on her? He gave her potions and checked her over, but didn't do anything else." 

"Are you mad? We never use that protocol on a patient. It would violate our oath of _Do No Harm_. Using that spell on a sleeping patient is begging for her to go into crisis and probably perish." 

"So this hospital and the Healer won't use a long safe and trusted French spell to help the patient?" 

"I don't know where you got the idea of using arcane magic on a patient is a wise idea but you're mad to think anyone else in this hospital would subject a sick patient to such barbaric medicine. We're civilized here and won't use _that_ form of magic in any attempt to heal the patient." The medi-witch stood up further. "We perform tried and true methods, letting time heal the patient instead of disgusting continental witchcraft that harms patients. Our methods work, even if it takes longer." The medi-witch gave her a dirty look before departing the room. She stopped at the door for a second. "I'll send someone up with a dinner plate for Mrs. Weasley." She departed immediately. 

Fleur spoke to herself in French. Bill looked at her with chagrin and Hermione hid her face from the others. "Bill, we're leaving shortly. Papa Roux, you will come home with us tonight. You've been here since half eight and you're dead on your feet. I will prepare dinner and you will eat for me, too." 

Her statement brooked no complaint. 

"'ermione, Ginny, can you help me? I need to speak with you for a few." 

The two witches accompanied Fleur out of the room and followed her to the waiting room outside of the ward. Once inside, Fleur locked it. 

"What is it, Fleur?" 

Fleur found a plastic chair and slowly lowered herself into it. She shifted around some, trying to find a comfortable spot on an uncomfortable chair. She settled in and let her full term belly hang out over her legs from her thin frame. "Hermione, do you know the spell I mentioned in there?" 

"Not really. I might have read it a few years ago but it doesn't sound familiar. My Latin is adequate so I only recognize two of the words." 

"I asked her about using French magic on Maman. The witch is mad herself, calling that spell arcane." She sniffed haughtily. "That arrogant witch tossed aside my question like I was advocating murdering Muzzer. I've seen this spell used in French hospitals. Veela magic works exceptionally well, when handled with care." 

"What are you on about, Fleur? I'm not brilliant like Hermione so get me up to speed, please." 

"I asked the medi-witch why the healer hadn't used a particular French spell, of Veela origin, on Molly. You heard her response." Fleur looked back at the closed doors of the ward. "I would never harm your muzzer for any reason, but I know that particular spell of Veela magic. The women of my family have used it for generations." 

"What does it do?" Hermione inquired. 

"I'll explain," she winced. "Sorry. Baby kicked the wrong place." She settled back into the chair. "Molly was touched with dark magic. It was on her for days. It has left scars on her mind." 

"Bollocks. The Healer removed all of it." Ginny challenged. 

"Quiet, _soeur_." Fleur shut Ginny with a stern look. "I said she was touched with dark magic. The Healer said that. What you see is a consequence. It's not dark magic, _per se_. But it's darkness on her soul from everything that has happened to mère. You English don't get it, but I'll see if I can explain it." 

"So you know this?" 

"Not that well to explain, Hermione. I've lived this. I know it here," she pointed at her heart followed by her head. "The best way I can translate it and make sense is magical fear. It's that she's terrified of any magic used around her, or on her. I'm not surprised after what she possibly went through. 

"I've been so scared a few times in my life. But the first time I was frozen was when I was going to challenge the Dragon. Seeing that dragon was magical fear – because there was little I could do to harm him. But being a Common Welsh Green, he could harm me." 

"You? We watched you facing that Dragon. You were so calm and seemed like nothing bothered you out there. You weren't bothered even when your skirts caught fire." 

"Oh I was." Fleur patted her leg. "The 'ogwarts healer couldn't heal my leg completely, where the dragon burned me. I have a pattern on my leg, about two inches square, to remind me of being careless." She saw the other two girls looking slightly lost. 

"I used family magic, and used it for good. It didn't take away the fear I felt facing that beast. But it did take away the dark thoughts." Fleur saw their befuddlement. " _Maman_ is terrified of what's inside her head. She's frightened of what she saw, lived through, and had to cope with, by herself. I can help her, yet cannot help." 

"That makes no bloody sense, Fleur. Speak English." 

Fleur scowled at Ginny's ignorance. "Hermione, do you understand what I am trying to say?" 

Hermione sat down and put her head in her hands. "If that's the case, why didn't you use it with me?" 

"You were close to dying and I couldn't risk it. It was only two days later that Bill and I knew you were going to live. Ron wouldn't leave your side. Besides," she turned slightly pink, "Bill and I didn't know if you would be _whole_ until you woke." 

"Oh," she said quietly. "And when I woke – "

"Ron was by your side and he was the best medicine for you." 

"So this family magic, will it help Mum?" Ginny started pacing the room. "I don't care if I'm given Felix Felicis, I won't let her be hurt, for any reason." 

Fleur looked at her hands. "What I am suggesting isn't for the faint of heart. You must have the courage of Percival to do it. But it won't hurt her." 

Ginny and Hermione looked at one another. "You've got two courageous witches here. Go ahead." 

"Well?" Hermione huffed. 

"First off, this isn't dark magic, not like what I see it. This is something to help her by bringing someone else into her mind, to share in her burden. Shared burdens are lessened?" 

"You're making no sense." 

"Patience, _petite soeur_. First, let me demonstrate." 

Fleur pulled her wand and did the motions. Hermione mimicked it repeatedly until she could perform it flawlessly. "And the other one," she winced again and demonstrated the second spell. "You will need both of those for what I am suggesting." 

Hermione practiced them until she her wand work was flawless. 

"First, the person helping has to be capable at _legilimens_."

"We both are. I'm better than Ginny." 

"But I use it more with Harry to help with his Auror training." 

"You need three people to make this work. The one helping Muzzer only uses legilimens. She doesn't use any other spells. The second person will do legilimens on the first person, not Molly, and use one additional spell. The third person will cast another spell on the second person, and only on that second person. The third person does the hardest spell which will break the dark magic." 

"This is as clear as Polyjuice potion," Ginny retorted. 

"What I am trying to tell you is that you need each other, to trust one another completely. If you don't trust her with your life then this won't work." 

"I do, absolutely." Ginny spoke up first. "She brought Harry home," she whispered. 

"I do. Completely." 

Fleur looked at the two younger witches in front of her. Neither balked from what she was asking. 

"Very good. Now, Ginny will use legilimens on Molly. You have the greatest need therefore you are the one who will face the most danger. You're the one who needs Mum released from the darkness in her mind. You will be the one to see the horrors in her head. You are the one who will be swallowed in the darkness, witness the trauma that makes absolutely no sense. Your mind could crack from seeing what Muzzer doesn't share. But since you have the greater need, even if what I am suggesting is potentially harmful, you are the only one who can handle it and pull Mum out. Your desperation will save you. 

"Hermione will do the first spell on you, and **only** you. Her power and your need will make it work. Now who will help you?"

Hermione sat forward. "I will ask Luna when she gets here."

"I know her strength. She is competent enough for your third person." Fleur looked at Hermione. "The spell is this: _lâcher âme._ That is the one you will use on Ginny. That will, along with using legilimens on Ginny will pull her back out form the horrors and terrors inside Mum's head. The other spell is _Expuo tenebris daemonium_. Luna will use that spell on you, Hermione, and no one else. That is very important."

"But the Healer said that he removed everything off of her before they brought her here." Ginny scowled. "If he mucked up removing dark magic from her, I will personally remove his bollocks with a bloody spoon." 

"He removed all of it," Hermione spoke up first. "Your brother watched everything the Healer did in the tent. Between the Healer and Bill, everything came off." 

"You sure?" 

"I swear." The women shared a profound look. Whole conversations passed in one look. Ginny breathed first and returned her attention to Fleur. Fleur continued now that Ginny was placated. 

"This complicated set of spells isn't about removing dark magic. What I am talking about are the residual consequences. These spells work to remove the fear from her mind, to take away the darkness and the fear. When you mount a broom for an important match, how do you feel?" 

"I'm nervous, excited, and anxious. But when I take flight, everything I felt on the ground is left behind when I'm flying. Up there, I'm in complete control." 

"These sets of spells will give Mum that same freedom, to know she can come out of hiding inside her head. She's scared and she will refuse to come out of hiding. It won't heal her, or cure her. But it will make it easier to come back to us. She will see you there, looking like a rescuer, inside her mind. Your presence will help her, let her see it's safe to come out, to quit fighting and let us help her. You will have to help her. She won't be able to do it on her own." 

Fleur winced again, holding the grimace on her face for seconds. Hermione started to get up and stopped when Fleur put her hand up. "Dominique is standing on my bladder." Fleur took a deep breath and pierced Ginny once again. 

"You need her back, don't you?" Ginny vigorously nodded her head. "The spell isn't complicated but the resulting situation will be. It's not safe to use this spell except in this situation. And I'm only offering this suggestion because you two are the only competent witches who could possibly pull it off. I wouldn't dare offer this to any of your brothers because they would argue over who would be the one to rescue her." 

"You're right," Ginny laughed and Hermione smiled. "Daddy would fight them too when it came to rescuing Mum." 

"With you, there is no ego in the way. You're not doing it for bragging rights, or glory, or accolades. No, like strong women, you're doing it for someone's benefit. You accept what needs to be done and will do so." 

The other witches nodded. "Have you tried it before?" 

"Yes, I did, for each test in the Tri-Wizard challenge. I paid dearly each time for using it. But I know it will help Maman. Will Luna agree to help?" 

"We'll ask her once she arrives. She'll be our third if she agrees." 

"You trust her with your lives?" Fleur saw the look pass between the younger witches. "Of course you do. Ginny's the glue of friendship between you and Luna, isn't she, Hermione?" 

"She is. But we're friends too, but not as close as Ginny and Luna are." 

"Fleur? What's the cost? Why does it need three people there?" Ginny interrupted. 

"The person with the greatest need, who is knows legilimency, is the one to delve Mum's mind. You have the greatest need so you have to do it. But the cost is that the person who does the spell takes in the darkness and has to cope with it. The person who receives the darkness can't handle it and it overwhelms them, breaking them. For lesser people, it can destroy them. This isn't try and fail; this is fail and perish. But I doubt that will happen to either one of you, will it?" 

Two heads shook in affirmation. 

"The second one casts the spell on you, not Mum, taking the burden as well. That would be Hermione, I think. Between her and Luna, they work in tandem to break the spell-work, sharing the burden even further. You need three powerful, competent witches to take the burden of you and Mum mentally and emotionally, and pull her out. Luna is the one to break the spell finally, letting Mum come out of the darkness. 

"But let me tell you this: you cannot do this bit of work alone, or even two people. It will destroy three people. You have to have three to rescue the fourth." Fleur sat for a second. "It's like when you fall through ice in a lake. You form a chain to reach out to the person and rescue them, pulling them up and along until everyone is safe." Fleur wrung her hands, showing the stress of what she was suggesting. "I would do it without regret but I can't risk _ma fille_ doing it." 

"We'd never ask you to risk the baby for this." Ginny and Hermione shared a look. They came to a consensus without argument. "It's Mum. She's worth it." 

"I never said she wasn't. I said there was a cost. The question was whether you'd pay it or wait for her to heal on her own." 

"Do you think I'd sit here on my ass, waiting weeks or years for the Healers to slowly bring her back form the abyss she's locked in? They rather take their sweet fucking time, plying her with potion after potion and let her lay there in her bed doing nothing. Merlin! You think I want to sit here, watching Dad grow thinner by the day while Mum is locked inside her head? Hell no. I'll take the risk to bring Mum back to us. She's not going to be like the Longbottoms, wearing pajamas every day and giving their son bubble wrappers!" 

Ginny threw herself into a chair on the other side of the room and put her head in her hands. Her shoulders shook violently. Hermione joined her on the other side and pulled Ginny into a hug. 

"What can go wrong, Fleur?" She asked while Ginny fought to regain her composure. 

"Wrong? Well, plenty, but not to Mum. For her, if it doesn't work, doesn't pull her from the darkness, then you have to rely on the Healers to help. The harm would be to you, Ginny, and to Papa Roux. I think if Mum is left here to recover with the Healers, and on potions, everyone will go either mad or it'll rip the family apart. My Bill, my beautiful Bill, is having trouble coping too. He will never admit it to anyone else, but behind our doors, inside our room, I have to hold him most of the night so he can get some sleep. Otherwise, he is awake all night, pained with worry. I don't mind since I can't sleep right now. 

"Am I correct to assume that you think that, if she's left here, she won't recover and will be here a very long time? Is that your fear?" 

Ginny looked up with bloodshot eyes and a very pale face. "Yes, damn it. I will not let Mum be in here longer than necessary. I refuse to allow it. Mum's paid enough already for everything that's happened. I refuse to stand aside, letting her suffer alone." Ginny's breath caught again. "How much does my family have to pay for other people's actions?" 

"Ginny, you're not alone in this. Remember, Luna and I promised to be by your side, thick and thin. We're not abandoning you in this." Hermione looked at the door just to verify it was still closed. "And Luna's on her way. She should be here in the morning." 

"Really?" 

"Yes, really. I owled her this morning and pulled quite a few favors to get a letter sent to her. I – " Her throat got stuck but forced the words out, bitter ones that stung to admit in front of Fleur. "I owled her because I don't know how to help you. I don't know how to help Mum, not like this. I don't know how to make things better. I have all this knowledge inside my head and at my fingertips and I can't do a damn thing about it." 

"You don't have to have all the answers." Ginny reached over and hugged Hermione. "But I'd like to do so as soon as possible." 

Fleur unlocked the door. "If Luna is coming tomorrow, I will delay the men as much as possible. If I offer to cook breakfast for Ron and Harry too, will that help?" 

"Yes, it will. How long will we need to perform the spells?" 

"Those only take seconds, but your parts take much longer. But it's what you do to get her to come out will be time consuming." 

"What do we have to do?" 

Fleur's gaze turned apologetic. "Bear your souls to what happened to you, for Mum's sake. This includes Luna, too." 

"Aw fuck no." Ginny scowled. "There's no way!" 

"That's the ultimate cost, Ginny. The magic used demands it. You'll be too tired to lie. What you share has to be honest, open, and painfully raw. Molly won't come out of hiding if she things you're hiding something from her. She has to trust you." Fleur went to the door. "Discuss it tonight after the men leave. You're not obligated to do it, not with the potential risks. But it's up to you what you do." 

Fleur pulled open the door. "I'm taking Papa Roux and Charlie home." She wobbled out into the hallway. 

"I've never told Mum about the year with Riddle," Ginny whispered. 

"And I've not shared everything with Molly about my time at Malfoy Manor." Hermione retorted. 

"Merlin, this is going to be completely mental." 

"But you said you're doing this for Mum." 

"I know. That's why I am doing it. There's nothing in my soul that I've not confronted and crushed." 

Hermione bit her lip. "I'm worried about this. You're not leaving me any time to do research." 

"If I wait on you doing research, it'll be a month. I will not let Mum stay in here another damn day if I can do something about it." 

Hermione looked at Ginny. "You're being reckless." 

"I am not. I'm angry and mad. I will not stand here doing nothing while Mum is in that room and out of her mind on potions." Ginny stood up to pace. The magnitude of what she was volunteering for was almost overwhelming. "We've talked at length about what happened with Tom. You remember that, right?" 

Hermione watched Ginny pace the five steps in the room. "I remember very clearly. I still don't know how you did it, how you survived it." 

"It wasn't sheer dumb luck, that's for certain. It was anger, and rage, and fury. You saw it that day we were fighting Bellatrix in the Great Hall. I thought then that everything I wanted was ripped out of my soul. Harry was dead. Fred was dead. That moment, I wasn't afraid of dying. 

"But losing Mum to madness? That scares me witless. What Fleur suggested I have to do is, well, terrifying. This is Mum. This is all the shite she's never talked about – certainly her brothers' murder. It's Fred's death. It's her parent's too. Merlin, it's all the stuff she keeps bottled up. Do I want to know these things about her? Can I cope with her being in here the rest of her life? No, I can't. 

"I will not stand aside, letting my family fall apart, because Mum is stuck in here, not getting better. The family cannot wait on the Healers and their damn potions." 

"You're being irrational. It's been only 2 days." 

"And you're being naive." Ginny hissed back. "Do you know how long it took for the Healers to realize that Neville's parents weren't going to get better, that they were irreparably broken? Three fucking days. I know 'cause Neville told me while we were planning one night." 

"You're angry and you're not thinking clearly. It's making you careless and it's going to hurt her. Give me some time to look into this and help you." 

"No." 

"You're making a mistake." 

"I am not. My brothers aren't doing shite. Someone has to do something to help Mum." 

"You are. We're going to take care of Mum." 

"No! That's not good enough." 

"Ginny!" 

Ginny turned, her hands on her hips. "Are you going to help me or not?" 

"I promised, didn't I?" Hermione spat back. 

"Good." Ginny stalked in the room, turning often in the small confines. 

"Talk to me," Hermione whispered. "What are you thinking?" 

"I'm terrified. I know I can fuck this up and it'll be my fault." 

"Yes and you refuse to wait. Do you want me to do it, so if something goes wrong, it's not your fault?" 

"No." 

"You know I will. It's not like I've not confronted the nightmares in my own head too." 

"I know. But no. "

"It's not a risk." 

Ginny ignored the last comment. "Part of me is very curious. I only know of my uncles from stories that my brothers tell. But they died before I was born. I only know that Mum nearly died in childbirth with me. But I don't know the entire story. No one will talk about it. 

"The one time I asked, Mum sent me to my room for an hour. Do I want to know my Mum's darkest secrets and the things that weigh her down? I only know that if I don't take that risk that she might be like this, stuck in this hospital, for years on end. I can't have that. Dad wouldn't survive it, not for long." She froze Hermione with her hard, blazing look. "I'm doing this to save Daddy, and the family." 

"That I understand. But I'll still do it, for you." 

"I know but this is my Mum. I will risk this, to get her back. You and Luna are the only ones I trust to save my ass doing this. I wish I could trust Ron and Harry but they'd lock me out of the room for even considering this." 

"I should lock you in a water closet but I get it. This is family and you're being rash and mental and I'd trust no one else to do this." 

"No, you wouldn't, not like this. This idea is bloody mental." Ginny continued to pace in the room. 

"So what do you want to do?" 

"I want Mum well," she said with fire tempered conviction. 

"You're risking your life?" 

"Wouldn't you?" 

"Of course I would. But I'm making sure you can handle it." 

"Mum killed for me. I'm going to help her. I owe her that much and so much more." 

"Alright. I still think you're barking mad." 

"We both are. But then we've known that for years." 

Ginny got up and went for the door. "Staying tonight?" 

"I'm not leaving your side." 

Ginny grinned. "Not even if my brother begs for a leg over." 

"He can wait, especially if we can get Mum well. What about Harry?" 

"I can always shag him in the hospital loo." 

The witches left. "Yeah, you're barking." 

Ginny laughed, the first time in days. "You are too." 

The women went back to the room where the rest of the family was gathered. Harry and Ron were talking with the still-present Charlie. "If I hadn't, it'd have been – "

"Bill and Fleur head home?" Hermione interrupted as Ginny went to greet her husband with a chaste kiss. Charlie piped down with a look from Harry. 

"Yeah. Fleur said that she missed Victorie and that Andromeda probably was tired of being at the house with two rambunctious kids. They took Dad with them." 

There was a tray of hospital quality dinner next to Molly's bed. "Ginny? Shall we try to feed Mum?" 

"Sure. I don't think she's had anything to eat since we tried at lunch." Ginny lifted the lid on the tray and saw some badly baked ham, mashed turnips and tomato slices. "Oh this is rubbish." 

"What about tea?" 

Ginny looked at Mum and saw her staring off into space without looking at anyone. "Mum? Tea?" 

Molly continued to stare out into space. 

"Here, let me help." Harry stood up from his chair after talking with Ron and drifted in front of Molly. 

"No, go away," Molly groaned. She pulled the blanket over her head to hide. "Stay away from me!" 

"Harry, it's you," Charlie redundantly added. "That's why she gets barmy." 

"Shite." He reached into his pocket for an orange twisted with red stripes sweet. He bit into it, wincing at the taste. Everyone in the room watched as his hair changed colors, turning a strange shade of electric orange. 

"The bloody hell is that?" Charlie demanded. 

"I popped over to see George before I came here. We talked. I guessed that Mum saw my hair and got upset at it, thinking I was with that git Lestrange. So George gave me a Ginger Treasure to change my hair. I figured it would help. Still takes like shite." 

"Mum, pull down the blanket. The bad man is gone," Ginny cooed. Molly refused but with assistance from Hermione, Ginny brought the blanket back down from Molly's head. "Here's some tea for you." 

The women worked, caring for Molly. The men sat on the other side, talking among themselves. 

A white robed orderly stepped into the room. "It's 8pm. Visiting hours are ending." 

"We're not leaving," Charlie grumped. The orderly huffed and stepped back out. 

"We?" Ginny whispered. 

"Yeah. I'm staying tonight." 

"The hell you are, Charlie. I'm here and Hermione's staying too. We'll send a _Patronus_ if anything changes overnight. You're as strung out as the rest of us, staying up here most of the time since you brought her in. You need a break and a shower, too." "Are you saying I stink?" 

"Yeah, I am. I'm saying that you need to a bath and some fresh clothes." 

"You're being a snide git." 

"I learned it from the best – you." 

Ginny gave him a dirty look. Charlie gave Ginny a particular hand gesture and she returned it gladly. 

"Go home. Hermione and I are staying tonight." 

"Hermione?" Ron whined. 

"Our flat is ten minutes away. Go home and get some sleep. Take Harry with you." 

Ron's face turned color. 

"I know what you want but it can wait a night. You still need rest and to let your head heal. Ginny and I will stay tonight with Mum and make sure she eats something and maybe get her to open up some." 

"But she's just lying there. She won't eat or drink anything, not without someone making her do it. You remember she tried to bite Audrey at lunch when she tried to get her to eat a spoonful of beans." 

"I remember. It was also loud, crowded, noisy, and busy. I also remember that almost everyone was in here and making a scene with Mum. I think if it's quiet in here with only us, she might be able to do more instead of screaming and crying." 

Harry gave Ginny a peck on the cheek before making his way to the door. "Come on, you troll. I'll have Kreacher fix us some ham sandwiches for us when we get home." 

"I want more than just butterbeer tonight, too." 

"We'll get it." 

"He can't. The potions he's taking will make him sick. Healer's orders. Not even butterbeer." 

"Bugger!" Ron leaned over to his wife and kissed her cheek. "Promise, about tomorrow?" 

"Yes, love. I promise that we can have some quality time tomorrow evening." 

"Quiet moment now, to tide me over?" 

"You're being a prat, Ron." She gently hit his arm. 

"You never know unless you ask." 

"And you're being selfish." She gave him a dirty look before breaking into a smile. 

Ron stood up and laughed. "It was worth a shot, I reckon." 

A porcupine popped into the room and looked at the gathering. "Dinner tonight is standing rib roast." Fleur's voice erupted. "I expect everyone 'cept _ma soeurs_ here in thirty minutes." The porcupine winked out. 

"Harry, let's have dinner there instead." 

"I knew you wouldn't refuse Fleur's cooking." 

"Well, yeah. Aren't you?" 

"I guess I am. I had a terrible egg salad sandwich at eleven and it wasn't nearly enough." 

"Let's go have some dinner with the family then we can go crash." 

Hermione and Ginny watched the men finally leave. 

"I thought they'd never leave," Hermione blew out a deep breath. 

"I knew they would once Fleur mentioned dinner. Ron follows his stomach. But I bet Fleur did that to get them out of our hair." Ginny opened her hours old takeaway sack and pulled out a roast beef sandwich. "I'm glad she did. I was tired of Charlie hanging around here bothering us with his complaints." 

Hermione put her books away and stowed the rest of her supplies in her satchel. "You know how rash this is, right?" 

"Of course it is. But what's life without a little bit of risk?" Ginny finished her sandwich. 

"So you think our lives have been a walk in the orchard so far?" Hermione pulled out the blanket from the bag next to her chair. 

"I'll say this: It makes for one hell of a story." 

"I swear you're touched." 

"Maybe so, but if I am you are too." 

Hermione pointed her wand at the chairs and a single bed for her, including a cushioning charm to make it more comfortable. "Now I'll nap first but wake me when the medi-witch comes in at midnight. I'll take over when she leaves." 

"You're going to let me sleep later?" "Well, sure. I want to review some work during the night. It'll be fine." 

"Hermione?" 

"Yeah?" 

"Do you think this will work?" 

Hermione chewed her lip. "You don't have to do this, Ginny. We can forgo – "

"No. I can't explain it but I don't want Mum like this, and not stuck in a hospital, with no hope of getting better." 

"You're scared Mum is going to be like Neville's parents and it terrifies you." It wasn't a question. 

"It does. We talked about them when we were confined to the common room. He's talk about Mum and Dad for hours, and I listened. He talked about his Grandmother and how his upbringing was so very different from my own. I listened to his stories, about his family, namely uncles and such, who were so scared he was a squib that they subjected him to things Mum would beat someone with her wand for doing to a child." Ginny looked at Molly lying in the bed. "I don't want her to miss out, not for this. I also don't want to have to choose between Mum and a career, because that's not even a choice. Mum comes first." 

"None of this is your fault. He could have, just as easily, kidnapped you, me, or even little Victorie, to compel Arthur to do his bidding." 

"I know. How many were kidnapped during the war and just _disappeared_ , and families broken because their loved one was killed and no traces were left." Ginny's face turned red in the soft glow of the gas lamps. "How many families were destroyed by madness of what happened? So fuck it, I'm not going to stand aside and watch Mum become another bloody statistic." 

"I know. I'm not leaving your side for this." 

"I'm glad you're here." 

"Where else would I be?" 

Ginny sat quietly in contemplation. "You know we could get into trouble for this." 

"What else is new? But I'll soothe over the feathers should it be necessary." 

Silence settled over the room and shortly thereafter, Hermione was softly snoring on her couch. 

Ginny sat in her chair, trying to read but gave it up as a bad job a little while later. She sat in silent contemplation, watching Molly who was watching the ceiling. 

* * *

Molly took the last of her potions and returned to staring at the wall away from her daughters. The calming draughts helped and were the only thing keeping her from being strung out and completely hysterical. Hermione took a sip of the two am tea and cringed. It was bitter from having been reheated several times. 

"I need more tea. I'll also see if Luna's here. Once she gets here, we'll ask her and start. I need to stretch my legs outside." Hermione stood up from the chair and saw Ginny look at her in the darkness of the private room. Ginny nodded and turned back to her Mum in the bed. "We're not going anywhere." 

Hermione put a comforting hand on her friend's shoulder and squeezed before walking out of the room. 

The lights in the hallway were painful in comparison to the dimness of the room. But she needed a small break from the smothering atmosphere of the room. Ginny prattled on in her sleep, waking when the medi-witch came in. Molly didn't say a word, only looking around in a fugue like haze. 

But was catatonia better, or worse, than having the occasional fit? Hermione couldn't decide which devil needed their due. 

Hermione pushed through the doors to the ward and was boggled at their situation. Thank goodness that Luna was going to be here shortly. She was emotionally spent after helping Ginny the last two days. 

She went out the ward in search of tea. Sure enough, there was a fresh pot out at the concession desk, along with tea bags. The stale pastries might interest Ginny but that much sugar this early in the morning wouldn't suffice. 

A ding from the end of the hallway alerted her first. She waited to see who it was coming out of the lift at 4:30am and only stowed her wand once she saw dishwater blonde hair, pale blue eyes and the most amusing orange outfit adorning Luna's body. A second person was behind her, one with platinum blond hair and grey eyes, wearing a purple uniform who took one look and hid in the lift. The door closed almost immediately. 

Luna came up and hugged Hermione tightly before pulling away. "I came as fast as I could." 

"I'm glad you're here. Ginny and I are with her this morning while everyone else is home asleep." 

"What time is it? I'm still on New Zealand time. 

Hermione looked at the small watch on her wrist. "It's half four in the morning." 

Luna unwrapped the length of material around her waist and draped it over her shoulders. "I forgot that it was winter here." She pulled her wand out of her hair to let it fall down her back. "When I left, it was too hot to wear this except around my waist. The shirt was too warm too." Luna shook her head. "How is she?" 

Hermione looked back at the double doors. "Molly's physically fine now. The healer said that she was underfed and dehydrated, but he also hurt her some. He healed her injuries as soon as she was in his care. But she also had a conflicting marriage bond shoved onto her and some other potentially nasty curses. All of that seems to have touched her mind. She acts like she's locked inside her head and refusing to come out. She won't look at anyone and only talks when she's scared or trying to hide. It's been a chore to get her to drink anything, much less eat. I'm boggled right now on what to do." Hermione crossed her arms. "Ginny and I tried but we haven't helped much. Audrey tried and got nothing either. I thought you'd be able to help where we failed." 

The young women shared a look before Luna's face fell. "I know where she is. I might be able to get her to come out." 

"Oh thank you. I hate to say this, but I thought you'd be able to help. For everything I know, I can't help, not like you might be able to. Ginny's been a wreck and she's only holding on since her Mum needs her. Charlie's been helpful, along with Bill, keeping Arthur distracted when he's not here." 

"I said I know where she is, but I don't know if I can reach her. I only know that Mr. Ollivander helped me out of my own cavern. He's rather talented that way. But what he taught me those dark days hasn't left. I hope the student can become the teacher for this." 

"Fleur instructed Ginny and I how to reach her. I offered to do this but I know I wouldn't know how to help her come out. I worry that I'd fail if I did it." 

"I'm sure you helped more than you will give yourself credit for. You can talk about yourself without thinking that you're bragging for my benefit." 

Hermione laughed for a second. "I missed you. Your candor is so refreshing." 

"And I missed your company." 

"This spell Fleur taught, is it dangerous?" 

"Only to Ginny if she's unsuccessful. We're to help her, but also help Molly. The spell won't hurt Mum any worse than what she is right now. The particular method is called _Expuo tenebris daemonium._ "

"I read about that once, while I was in the German Alps looking for Herbs with Neville. Fascinating, really. Fleur suggested it?" Hermione nodded. "That might work. But what have the Healers done up to now?" 

"The family listened to the healers and let them dose her with potions. But it's only to keep her calm until she comes out of this mess." Hermione crossed her arms. "Ginny and I tried but we couldn't help. Audrey tried and got nothing either. I thought you'd be able to help where we failed." 

"I wouldn't consider it a personal failure. This seems to be a rather complicated situation." Luna took a step towards the doors before stopping. "I will need your help and I won't make any promises. I can't guarantee that I can get her to come out either." 

Hermione blushed. "It's yours. Just tell me what you need." 

"Lock the doors so no one can come in. We can't be interrupted." 

"I'll lock it, seal it, hide it, and protect it. Anything else?" 

"I don't want anyone else to know what we're talking about." 

"You mean the men, right?" 

Luna nodded solemnly. "This isn't for them. They won't understand what's happening. I'm not ready for any of them to know what I went through, much less anyone else." 

"But Audrey? She's a Mind Healer." 

Luna looked sharp for a second. "You can tell her everything if we get Molly back. You remember how draining this is on me." 

Hermione nodded her head once in understanding. "We remember. It's not like I want to relive what I went through either." Hermione stared into the private ward and steeled herself. "I'll walk through Hell to get Molly back. I'm doing this for Ginny, and Ron." 

Luna turned back to the doors and pushed through. "I'm not doing this for Molly. I'm walking through my nightmare because you asked and you are my friend. I'm doing this for my friends." 

"Ginny needs you before we help Molly. She's agreed to take on the darkness in Molly's soul, so we can bring her light." 

"I expected no less. You're going to help Ginny break it once she takes it in?" 

"Yes, but Fleur said it will take both of us, so she doesn't go mad." 

"It sounds dangerous, like watching lethifolds up close." 

They walked to the doors for Molly's room. Hermione stopped and looked at the petite witch in orange. "Well, life was boring again so we all said we wanted something exciting and dangerous for a change." 

"Ron's humor has infected your sarcasm and it's inadequate." Luna pulled a face. "Your sarcasm is still lacking the requisite ironic logic to it." 

"Thanks, I think," Hermione cheeked back. "You want tea or will water do until we're done?" 

"Water will be fine until we're finished. I've had plenty of tea today." 

The two witches walked into Molly's room and seconds later, the door disappeared from the wall. Hermione worked quickly, imbuing the walls with various protective magic so no one could come into the room while they were busy with Molly. 

"Luna!" Ginny left her seat ran to her best friend. Hugs were shared along with kisses on cheeks. "No problems getting here from New Zealand?" 

"Well, there was a rather insistent member of one of the tribes in New Zealand who seemed to have developed a crush on me. He professed his love and offered all of goats if I would marry him. I politely declined but told him the girl who was behind him would accept the offer." 

"You get so many offers. I wonder how you tell them that your current partner is a hero of Hogwarts and an artist." 

"Oh they know about Dean. He's there teaching them Muggle Football. They think he's funny. He is funny, in a polite and kind way that doesn't hurt people's feelings." 

"You still fancy him." 

"I do. He's been very good to me." Luna shrugged off her shawl and slipped her feet out of her trainers. "Ginny, I'm going to repeat what Hermione said. You don't have to do this. You can let Mum heal naturally. She's strong, emotionally. She'll come out of this." 

"The longer Mum's like this, the longer it will be to come out of it. I know it." 

"You can't explain it logically, can you?" Luna asked without recrimination. 

"No, and I know it sounds mad but I can't shake it." 

"She's touched, Hermione." 

"No more than the rest of us, I reckon." 

"Ta muchly." Luna settled into a chair. "What do I need to do?" 

"It's your show, Ginny. You know I'm the first one to help." Hermione sat quietly. 

"How's your legilimancy again?" Luna asked. 

"I'm almost as good as Hermione but not as good as you, if you believe McGonagall." 

"I do. Want me to ask again?" 

"No. You know my mind is resolute." Fire tempered steel reinforced her voice. 

"You heard her, Luna." Hermione added. 

"You're still being impulsive and rash and not thinking. But I expected no less from you." Luna smiled softly. 

Hermione took her place next to Ginny on the side of the bed. Ginny had the task of tickling the sleeping dragon. 

"Remember to be gentle when you go in. You're not acting like a bludger but a snitch. And remember that we're here with you, no matter what happens." Luna adjusted her skirt in her chair, towards the foot of the bed. 

"I know. That's why I have the courage to do this." Ginny turned towards Molly in the bed, squaring her shoulders and lifting her chin in resolution. "Mum," she spoke softly, rubbing her Mum's shoulder. "Mummy, I'm hungry." 

Molly opened her eyes. There were new lines around her eyes along with shadows so deep they looked bruised. The skin on her face was sagging and her lips were cracked. The hair around her face was lank, limp, and lacking the normal vibrancy. 

"Mum? Can you look at me?" 

Molly looked at her daughter for a moment before she looked away, scrunching her eyes that gazed upon the ceiling. Tears leaked out of her eyes and she moaned in obvious discomfort. 

"Shite. I thought this morning would be it. I didn't want to do this," Ginny said forlornly. "No choice now," she whispered to herself. She took a very deep breath, focusing like the first moments of a Quidditch match. Harry's smiling face infused her with courage, and her best friends, her sisters really, reinforced her backbone. She pointed her wand at Molly while she was looking off at the far wall of the room. 

_"Legilimens!"_ she yelled. 

Luna reached into her pocket and pulled fruit out. 

"Luna, pay attention!" 

"I am. I can do two things at once. And right now, while I am keeping watch on Ginny, I can also eat. I am rather hungry after such a long trip. Maybe if you had more fruit in your diet, you would be able to cope better in our situation." 

Hermione shook her head in obvious resignation. She kept her wand on her sister in law, watching for any kind of clue to what was going on. This was the hart part, sitting and waiting on the first cracks so she could assist. Hermione knew her sister's strength – knew that she fought so hard at such an early age, and then only grew in determination since those early days. Those painful lessons, more like survivor skills, saved her more than once while dealing with the Carrows. Only her iron will and fierce loyalty, coupled with protecting the younger students, kept her from doing more than she did. 

All Hermione could see from her seat was Ginny standing at Mum's hip, wand pointed at Molly's chest and shaking slightly. 

"Luna, can you tell anything?" 

Luna looked up from the plum she was peeling and studied Ginny's appearance. "She's exhausted, but that's to be expected. She's close to breaking emotionally, but that expected too, considering her rash choices and actions. At this time, she's holding her own with whatever she's seeing in her Mum's memories. I expected no less from her while doing this." 

"I thought she might need us to help her in some way." 

"We are helping her. Some things are handled well with just our physical presence nearby. Growth comes through your own actions, even if your friends are present to help. Not everything involves a wand or active participation." 

"I'll feel a fool if you weren't needed." 

"I was needed. Ginny needed my company." 

Ginny staggered away from the bed to face the two witches sitting behind her. Her face was ashen and her wand was shaking. "A little help please?" and she fainted straight away. 

Hermione looked at Molly and saw she had her eyes closed and was breathing easier. Luna was already tending to Ginny, pointing her wand at her best friend and muttering simple charms. "We're here. Let us help," she cooed. She worked to move her best friend into her lap, cradling her head and shoulders. Gold threads of light settled over her head and chest. "That's better." 

Hermione knelt down and felt her pulse. It raced as hard as hard as she did on a broom. "Come on, stay with us." Hermione pointed her wand at Ginny's head and wove the prescribed magic on her. An orange flash of light erupted from her wand and settled over Ginny's head and chest. Images flooded her, knocking her on her bum. Even on her backside, she kept her wand pointed at Ginny. Luna cradled her head, her wand ready, pointing at Hermione. Ginny continued to thrash in her arms on her lap while she sung a wordless lullaby. 

"You're fighting too hard," Luna spoke in a normal voice. "Quit fighting it. You'll only hurt worse. We're here to help." Luna didn't look at Hermione, focusing only on Ginny. "When you start the spell, speak it, so I know to start trying to break it with the other one." 

Ginny stopped thrashing so hard while Hermione wrestled with the brief yet intense images she was watching from Ginny. "No," Hermione bit out and focused completely on Ginny. More came, even faster, things that made no sense without context or references. Faces flashed before her, some of whom she couldn't fathom a guess as to why they were important to Molly, much less Ginny. Generations of redheads came and went past her eyes. 

"Makes no sense," she groaned out loud. "It's overwhelming. No, damn it. This will not break you! Bloody hell, stay with me. Now Luna! Damn it, stay with us!" 

Luna lifted her wand and pointed it at Hermione's chest. She spoke the Latin words clearly, watching a bright silver spell hit Hermione in the chest and wrap around her in bright light. "Almost," Luna said with a touch of strain on her voice. "Almost there…. Get ready…."

"Luna, break it fast. She's starting to wither." 

"There." An audible crack echoed in the room, softer than a thunderclap but louder than dropping a silver tray of porcelain cups onto the tiled floor. 

Luna was panting like Hermione, acting like they ran up from the Black Lake to the top of the Astronomy tower. "My, that was quite a bit to deal with." Luna took another deep breath before looking at the sedate witch lying on her lap. "I hope it wasn't overwhelming for Ginny to see all that. I know it was a bit much for me." 

"A bit much?" Hermione spat out between gulps of air. "You do have a penchant for the understatement, Luna. That was like fiendfyre in a teapot." 

"You've been around Ron too much. He's quite dramatic. He has influenced you and not necessarily for the better." 

Hermione snickered at Luna's observation. "You're probably right." 

"Shite," Ginny groaned. "I feel like I hit the rings at full speed while on my broom." 

Luna pushed the stray hairs away from Ginny's face and watched her color change from bright red to pale brown. "No, you didn't but you went through quite a bit there." 

Hermione picked herself up from the floor and sat down in the plastic chair. "No rest for the weary, dear. We're only half finished." 

Ginny sat up from Luna's lap and smiled bashfully at her other best friend. "Thanks, dear." She hugged Luna for a moment, her arms shaking but her game face slid into place once she let the hug go. She stood from the floor and looked at Mum. Ginny took a seat in the chair and tried to recompose herself. 

Molly was sitting up in the bed, awake but looking healthier. Her eyes were open and she was looking around but hadn't otherwise moved. Her eyes were still distant, like she was looking through the walls of her hospital room. 

"Mum?" 

Molly wouldn't talk or acknowledge their presence. 

"Should we bind this to a vow?" Hermione inquired. 

"I would but that's not my choice or decision," Luna answered first. "Ginny, what do you think?" 

"I can't think right now. My mind is burnt rashers." 

Hermione pondered the possibilities. "We should keep it in here, but we have to tell Audrey what happened. Everyone else can wait until Molly tells her story. So how can we do that?" 

"Just make the vow include Audrey. That'll work," Luna added. She stood next to Ginny, holding her shoulder. "Everyone else, including Fleur, can wait until Mum is ready to talk to everyone. It's not like Dean's interested in what we are doing. He only knows I'm here for Ginny." 

"Harry won't care except that Mom is awake," Ginny whispered as she was swaying on her feet. 

Hermione looked towards the miniscule window of the door and saw a Healer looking around in befuddlement. She turned her attention back towards the other witches and disregarded the others outside. The magic would hold as long as they needed. 

Hermione pulled her wand and spoke the words quietly, refusing to interrupt Luna's soft-spoken words for Ginny's benefit. Gold thread wrapped around the four of them, binding them once again with magical redundancy. "It's done." 

"Good," Ginny acquiesced. She shook her head before reaching for Molly's hand. "Mum?" 

Molly kept her gaze on the far wall. Creases showed on her face and forehead. Her skin sagged and looked like she hadn't been in sunlight in weeks, not just days. Luna tried to move into her line of sight but she shifted her head, focusing her glassy eyes on the other wall, away from the door. Hermione moved to Ginny's side, trying to get into Molly's glance but Molly looked at the ceiling above their heads. 

Ginny sat down on the bed next to Mum and pulled her close, leaning Mum's head onto her shoulder. Molly tried to shrink away from Ginny's touch but she pulled her mum closer, helping her feel safer. 

"Mum, I need you. Please come back to me." 

"Molly, please come back. Your sons need you." 

"Mrs. Weasley, your husband needs you." 

Molly's hands clinched and released. Her eyes lost their glossy appearance and turned bloodshot. Her hands were working the bedclothes and she worried her lip. But she refused to look at anyone. 

"We know you're scared, Mrs. Weasley. Being scared is healthy." Luna took a breath. "You went through so much and you lived through it. But you have to come back to us. Please, come out of the hiding place, that safe spot you hid in, where he couldn't hurt you anymore. You won't hurt anymore. The bad man won't hurt you again." 

Luna put her hands on the bed, in front of Molly's gripped fingers. 

"Mum," Ginny spoke into her Mum's matted hair, "There's so much more you'll miss if you don't come back to us." Ginny put her hands on top of her Mum's hands. 

"Molly," Hermione leaned in close and squeezed her mother-in-law's hands. "You're not alone, not now. You have people who will help you. We're here, me and Luna and Ginny, and we're going to help. Come back to us." She rested her hands on top of Ginny's hands. 

Luna took the older witch's hands in her own. "Your daughter is my closest friend. Hermione is a friend too. You've comforted me when no one else could. You consoled me when I cried so much about my Mum. You were the only reason I could sleep many nights after Mum died. You've loved me since I came into your lives." Tears were falling down Luna's pale face. "I need you. Ginny needs you." Luna put her pale hands on top and squeezed them, letting the tears from her face drip into the crevices. 

Ginny hugged her Mum, squeezing her shoulders hard. Ginny let the tears fall. "Please be strong, like Hermione. Don't hide forever. Come back to us "Come out of hiding, Mum."

"Make it stop," Molly took a deep, shuddering breath. "It hurts," Molly whispered, "so much."


	20. Wizards and Witches

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** Trigger warnings are in effect for this chapter. Due to the sensitive nature of the information contained within, please be advised. If you have any questions before reading, please email me.

* * *

“Make it stop,” Molly took a deep, shuddering breath. “It hurts,” Molly whispered, “so much.” 

“You’re safe, Mum. I’m here. We’ll get you a pain potion as soon as possible.” 

Hermione looked at the door and saw explosions rattling the window but not breaking through. She gripped her wand and motioned around the room again, reinforcing the walls, floor and ceiling in protective magic. She felt the wand shudder in her hands and settle down again. 

She turned back to Molly and Ginny in the bed, watching Ginny struggle to settle her Mum’s anguish from the ordeal. Molly shuddered violently, shaking the bed that she and Ginny were on. 

“Let go, Mum. I’m here. You’re safe.” 

“Molly,” Hermione leaned in close, close enough for their knees to touch. “The Aurors apprehended him. He’s incarcerated and I’ll fight to make sure he stays there. Lestrange won’t hurt you again.” She touched Molly’s hand and Molly pulled back from the contact. “He won’t hurt you again.” 

“Mum, we’re not leaving you.” 

“We’re here to help you. Tell us,” Luna implored, crying. “And we will answer you.” 

“He threatened my granddaughter. He threatened Arthur. He hurt me.” Rib cracking sobs escaped Molly lips. “He threatened Ginny,” Molly collapsed onto Ginny’s shoulder. 

“Tell me they’re safe!” 

“They are, Mum. Daddy stayed with Fleur while you were gone. Daddy was with Victorie the entire time. I promise they’re fine. I was in South America with the National team. I was never in danger.” 

Molly’s rib cracking sobs quieted slightly. 

“Ron snapped his wand. He can’t hurt you.” Hermione touched Molly’s hand again, this time without Molly pulling back. “Just like you took care of Bellatrix, Ron took care of Lestrange.” 

“He,” she struggled to form words between hiccupping sobs that still rattled her chest “He grabbed my throat and I hit my head on the brick wall. I fought and nothing worked.” Molly hiccupped. “Arthur’s going to be mad at me.” 

“No he isn’t. Daddy’s been worried sick about you. He barely ate or slept since you went away.” 

Molly kept her eyes averted, looking at a fold in the bedclothes covering her lap. “He used dark magic on me. I feel like he – ” 

“He didn’t molest you, Mum, at least physically.” Hermione interrupted. “He messed with your mind and your magic. He probably made you think things that weren’t true. He bound your magic with an archaic marriage binding and that’s how he controlled you. But you fought back because Harry saw bruises on your face and neck, like he tried to strangle you. You wouldn’t tolerate that. Your Healer that helped with the rescue tended you immediately, even before you were completely freed. He healed the bruises on your face and neck and prescribed further potions at the hospital.” 

“Hermione suggested the Healer check you over as soon as you were rescued. He removed the silencing spell he put on you. Charlie promised me that the Healer removed the dark magic he could from you. Ron made the kidnapper remove the marriage binding. Fleur, though, was the one who suggested the last bit of magic, the one that made you so scared. I promise,” Ginny choked, “You’re free.” 

Molly’s breathing settled and some color returned to her sunken cheeks. “I still feel soiled.” 

“No, Mrs. Weasley. That was me.” 

“You?” Molly scrunched her eyes at the magnitude. “No, no… it can’t be true.” 

Luna looked off at a far wall, refusing to look at the others. Her face lost what little color it had, along with the wistfulness of her voice. Luna took a deep breath. 

“While I was held at Malfoy Manor, I was treated poorly. They didn’t feed me, same as you. I was held in a dank dungeon, away from the grass, sun, and even moonlight. My only company was Mr. Ollivander, and he wasn’t talking much towards the end, when Dean was brought to me. I forgave Draco for what he did to me. He had to do it, to save himself. He’s still cowardly and craven but he didn’t choose to hurt me. But then that mad witch used her wand on Lucius and he hurt me, terribly. I’m not mad _at him_ for what happened. He was broken, a desperate revenant at that point. She,” venom dripped from her voice, “used terrible magic on him, forcing him to defile me.” She looked at the hands on her lap, using the point of her wand to doodle on her leg. “She watched while he hurt me, really hurt me. But then Narcissa helped me, showed me a moment’s kindness before I went back in the dungeon.” Luna looked up. Eye makeup smudged her face, making her eyes look even bigger. “Then Harry and Ron were thrown into the dungeon and we escaped with Dobby’s help.” 

Luna sat smaller, trying to encourage Molly to look at her face. “I know how much it hurts. You think the pain will never subside. But it will. It’ll lose intensity, color, focus. It’ll dull, eventually, like a nightmare.” Luna touched Molly’s knee. “The worst scars will take longer, those that hurt your heart and mind. But they will fade, with help. My friends helped mine.” 

Luna looked to Hermione. She took a deep breath. “Hermione was tortured, subject to physical and magical abuse. I heard her screams. But she’s survived where others perished. Even while paralyzed with fear, she kept going. She lied, repeatedly, while being tortured and she refused to break. She survived torture that destroyed the Longbottoms. She endured to save Harry, and Ron.” 

Ginny pulled her Mum closer and held her tight. 

“You taught us kids about courage, surviving the death of so many you loved and yet you kept going. I kept going when I was dealing with Riddle’s torment. I grew from it and those painful lessons helped me when I had to have the courage to face the Carrows.” Ginny’s voice was brittle with frustration and anger. “You’re not alone in this. You will heal from it. Let us help you.” 

“Molly,” Hermione leaned in close. Molly stared at the floor with bloodshot eyes and ashen lips. “Every one of us has been tortured in one way or another. Luna was kidnapped and was hurt in ways that no woman should go through. They tried to break her and didn’t.” Hermione took a deep breath. “Ginny did too. She survived the Horcrux known as Riddle and grew from it and used it to stand up to those vicious fiends, The Carrows. She interceded to protect children from those fiends and survived it where most would break.” She put her hands on Molly’s hands, squeezing them first. “You’re not alone, not now. You have people who will help you. We’re here and we’re going to help, if you let us.” 

“I remember him trying to choke me,” she muttered. 

Ginny spoke up. “He did, more than once, from what Charlie said. He might have done that when he kidnapped you or he hurt you once you were at his cottage.” 

“The Healer said that the spells he put on you made you mental, and that it’d take a while for you to feel close to yourself again,” Hermione added. 

“We can make you forget what happened, if you want.” Luna twirled the wand in her fingers, doodling innocuous magic on her arm. “Forgetting won’t help you. I did, for a while. It was rather pleasant. But then it started manifesting in the nargles around me. I saw strange things. The world around me made no sense. I was troubled in my dreams. I told my friends one night. They showed me that forgetting doesn’t make you feel better. You feel the pain but you don’t know why you are hurting. Friends help make it easier to bear, and cope. 

“Your pain isn’t a burden, Mrs. Weasley. Let us help you.” 

“Mum, it’s not your fault. You didn’t harm him. He was mad at Daddy and used you to hurt him. You did nothing wrong.” 

“I didn’t?” Molly’s shoulders started shaking. “Then why me?” 

The three younger witches looked at one another. They agreed unanimously. 

“Arthur was merciful during the fighting at Hogwarts for a moment. He saw Rodolphus Lestrange bitten by an Acromantula and, as an act of mercy, killed Lestrange.” 

“Rabastan witnessed it and blamed Arthur for his brother’s death. He only saw the man’s murder, not realizing that it was Arthur’s mercy that he not suffer. Rabastan blamed your husband for it, even though his brother was mostly dead at that point.” 

“My Arthur?” 

“Yeah, Daddy. Daddy did the right thing and the bastard blamed him for it. He’s lucky that Harry and Ron arrested him. If I’d known,” Ginny never finished her sentence. 

Molly lifted her head slowly. She saw ice blue eyes looking at her, a smile making them happier. She looked to her left and saw unkempt brown hair and brown eyes looking at her, in amazement. 

“’Tis a silly question, but do you know those bints?” Ginny asked. 

“That’s Luna and Hermione.” 

Hermione slapped her hand over her mouth. Luna offered her a warm smile. 

A movement out of the corner of her eye showed Harry tapping on the magical opening into their room. 

“Molly, will you tell us about your family, please?” Hermione asked. 

“Arthur’s my husband. We’ve been married 33, almost 34 years. I have seven kids, one of whom went through the Veil. My oldest along with youngest two are married. I have grandkids, Teddy and Victorie, and another coming shortly. I doubt my second son will ever marry, and same for my third until he thinks he’s worthy for the one who is mad for him.” 

Hermione glanced up at the doorway again and saw Harry acting loony, waving at the window. Hermione smirked and looked instead at Molly and Ginny. “The rest of your family is ready to see you, but only if you want them in here. They missed you.” 

Ginny nodded. 

“They are? How can I face them after everything that happened? I know Arthur will blame me for letting it happen.” 

“Mum, it’s not your fault.” 

“Yes, it is. I could have fought harder.” 

“Molly, it’s not your fault.” Hermione added. 

“Yes, it is. I could have tried to escape.” 

Ginny looked at Hermione and saw her shake her head almost unnoticeably. 

“Mrs. Weasley, you aren’t responsible. That terrible wizard chose to kidnap you so he is the one at fault. You lived which means he’s a failure. He might be better used as dragon bait.” 

Molly shuddered again before leaning into Ginny and wrapped her arms around her daughter’s waist. Silent bitter tears fell, giving cathartic release for the grief and bereavement of the woman she was. 

Hermione motioned her head towards the door where Luna could see. Four sets of eyes looked into the blank wall. It shimmed for a moment and bright light cast into the room. “George must have used a spell to see us. I do hope no one was hurt.” 

“I didn’t protect the room from viewers, just entry. I couldn’t do both, sadly.” Hermione turned back towards the sobbing women on the bed. “Mum, they are anxious to see you. Your husband and sons miss you terribly. We’ve kept them away from you for some time, kept you safe and quiet and letting you come out when you were ready.” Hermione gave Ginny a pointed look and the younger witch thrust her chin out at her sister-in-law. “Luna even came home for a few days, so she could help too.” 

“How can I explain to him that I tried to fight him? He was just too strong. I tried to fight back but it was overwhelming. He hit me, tried to kill me…” her voice drifted off into silence while her purifying tears continued to flow. “I need my husband. I need Arthur.” 

“We’ll go get them.” 

Ginny pulled her Mum closer, embracing her tight. “I love you Mum.” 

Luna went to the door first, bringing Hermione with her. “There’s no magic in here.” Luna put her hand on the doorknob. “That’s exceptional magic, using the leverage of the door to keep them out. It’s easier to push than to pull.” 

“Thanks. It seemed the easiest way to keep them locked out short of blood magic like a _Fidelus Charm_ would require.” Hermione released the myriad of enchantments on the room and heard the banging on the door. “I guess my magic was too strong for them.” 

“Or their magic was made impotent by their emotions.” 

Hermione smirked at the innuendo. “You do realize that they are going to be quite mad about what we did. Ron might be the worst of it.” 

“I expect them to be completely beastly when we open the doors. Men get upset when women accomplish something without their guidance, insight, or assistance.” Luna replied before smiling. “But then, occasionally, we do need their help. They are useful sometimes, like achieving orgasms that are exceptionally fulfilling, or talking about things that we have no interest in, just to fill the air with noise rather than companionable silence.” 

“Sometimes,” Hermione muttered to herself. “Shall we greet them?” 

“After you.” 

Hermione pointed her wand at the door. There was a painfully loud **click** and she opened it just enough to slide out of the room. 

Hermione stood her ground in front of the door. 

Ron raced to her first, followed by George, snarling at her with murder on their faces. Both towered over her with bloodshot eyes and matching vicious snarls on their faces. “The bloody hell are you playing at?” Ron growled at his diminutive wife. “We’ve been out here hours, trying to get the doors open. I swear, if Mum’s hurt, I’ll –“

“You’ll do no such thing, Ronald Weasley.” He looked down to his right and saw the frightful visage of Luna standing under his nose. He stepped backwards when she shoved her wand under his chin. “You are a selfish man and thinking only of your inconvenience. We have not hurt your mother – at all. Ginny was with us the entire time, making sure we did nothing to Mrs. Weasley. If you cannot trust your own sister to the care of her mother, who can you trust? Do you trust your wife with her welfare?” Luna pointed her wand at the doors and silently did her spell. The gathering watched it open wide and the men saw inside: Molly was awake and crying into her daughter’s arms. 

“Molly!” Arthur yelled across the ward. He shoved Bill and Charlie aside to rush into the room. Molly lifted her head from Ginny’s shoulder and smiled at her family. 

“She asked for Arthur only.” 

“Sod that, Hermione!” George pushed past her and Luna with Ron and the others in tow. 

“Sorry, my brothers are louts,” Percy apologized before going in the room too. 

Hermione turned to Luna and pulled her into a crushing hug. “I knew you could help.” Thin arms wrapped around her to reciprocate. “I’m so glad you came and helped.” 

“You facilitated it, Hermione.” Luna pulled back with a smile on her face. “This wouldn’t have worked had we worked independently. Mrs. Weasley needed all of us. And you were excellent too.” Luna hugged her again, resting her head on Hermione’s shoulder. 

Hermione looked over Luna’s hair and saw Angelina and Audrey standing across the hall, gobsmacked. 

“How the hell did you accomplish that? The Healers said it’d probably be weeks, if not months, before she was talking again. The Master Potioneer said she’d probably be addicted to calming draughts once she was released from the ward. What did you do?” Audrey pulled quill and parchment out to take notes on how it had happened. 

Luna stepped out of Hermione’s hug and smiled. “We talked,” she leaned against the wall and slid downward. She slumped onto her side and was asleep in seconds. 

“You got Luna to talk about what happened to her, didn’t you?” Audrey smiled in recognition. “So that’s how you did it.” 

“Well, she did take a Portkey from Christchurch this morning. She’s knackered, obviously. But yeah, she talked. We all did. But you can thank Fleur. She’s the reason Mum is awake and coherent.” 

Hermione pulled her wand and gently floated her friend across the hallway to the stack of chairs. She lowered Luna onto them before transforming a newspaper into a warm blanket. Hermione tucked the blanket in close around Luna before dropping a butterfly kiss on the side of her head. 

“Fleur suggested some bit of _continental barbarian magic_ and it worked.” Hermione heard Audrey gasp behind her. 

“Oh dear lord. You did, didn’t you?” 

“Can either one of you brilliant arsed bints tell me what the fuck is going on? Is Molly alright?” 

The other two looked at one another and smiled. “She will be.” Audrey looked at Angelina. “I reckon these three witches made it where I can help her now. I might have to have a long talk with you, about performing magic on a patient. That is _highly_ illegal.” 

“Actually, it’s not. According to the Healer Responsibility Act of 1796, anything the Healer suggests as a course of treatment for a patient who cannot speak in their stead only needs approval of a present family member to start treatment. In this case,” Hermione looked at the sleeping Luna, “talk therapy was requested by Healer Smalls-Fawcett upon initial treatment of Mrs. Weasley. He never rescinded the order. Additionally, potions were not administered, only talking with Mrs. Weasley once she woke this morning.” 

“You’re treading a fine line, Hermione. I know you better than that.” 

Hermione smiled. “I will discuss this further, in private, once Mrs. Weasley is settled today. Is that acceptable?” 

“That’s one cocked up answer and tells me nothing.” 

Hermione yawned, to the point of nearly breaking her jaw. She’d slept only three hours in the last 3 days and was running on sheer determination. She looked back into the room and saw the rest of the family gathered with Molly, all around her bed, talking her ears off. Arthur took Ginny’s seat on the bed and was holding his wife on his shoulder while Ginny was snuggled into her husband’s embrace. 

“I’ll give you one.” Hermione turned back to the older witch next to her and smiled. “But it’ll be at Bill and Fleur’s residence. Once we’re there, I’ll tell you everything. Then I need a nap and a spot of tea, not in that order.” Hermione saw Audrey taking frantic notes with her floating quill. 

“Everything?” 

Hermione nodded. “My friends taught me to share my burdens and my joy. This story is quite a burden and I need to share it.” Hermione smiled. “But there is joy in it too.” 

Audrey pushed the door open and left the other two standing in the hallway. 

The two witches left with Luna fast asleep in the next room. 

Hermione pressed the button to go downstairs but Angelina stopped her for a moment. “Shouldn’t we be here for when Luna wakes?” 

“She’ll sleep for hours.” Hermione shook her head. “Ginny will keep watch over her. Ginny loves her – just like I do. Harry loves her too. Between all of us, I know she’s taken care of and she’s in great hands.” 

“Let me tell George I’m leaving and will be back up here after a while. He needs some time with his family without me saving his arse.” 

Angelina ran off towards the ward again and was gone only a moment or two. “Ron said to tell you that he’s holding you to your agreement tonight.” 

Hermione smirked. “I figured he would. But for now, I need to tell Fleur, and you, what happened.” 

The lift opened a second time and the two witches stepped in this time, letting it close behind them. 

* * *

Percy was the last one in the room and that was just fine for him. Merlin knows that everyone else deserved to hug Mum first, after everything going on. Even George needed time with Mum first since Percy understood how stressful this was on him. 

“Percy, go hug Mum,” Charlie growled at him. 

“Dad needs her more right now. I’ll have time with her.” 

“And you’re a pompous fool.” Bill snapped. “You’re not a damn pariah anymore. She needs you as much as the rest of us.” 

George was hanging on Mum, slovenly sobbing on her. 

Arthur waved Percy over. Each step he took felt like bludgers on his feet, throwing him off-balance and slightly wobbly. “Percy, oh my sweet Percy,” Mum wept before pulling him into a hug. 

George found a spot on the wall with Bill and Charlie before pulling out an electric orange handkerchief from his sleeve and blowing into it dramatically. 

“Prat,” Charlie growled at his younger brother. 

“Wankstain,” George retorted. “Why are you takin’ the piss from me and not those two gits over there with Dad?” 

“Because, arse for brains, those two gits were here much of the time with Mum, keeping watch with her and taking care of her. You acted like a rentboy with a bad check and Angelina had to chuck you out of the room so you’d not upset Mum again. Where were you, huh?” 

“Knock it off,” Bill warned. “We’ll interrogate George later about his reasons for not taking care of Mum while she’s been in here. We can collectively beat his arse into dragon dung once she’s home.” 

“No, Charlie needs an answer. I don’t want Ron hoisting me up by the lapels again. That was traumatic enough.” George watched Percy talking with Mum and Dad a few feet away. “I got scared and I couldn’t cope. Angelina was smart to drag my arse home. I worked but I was a wreck. She finally had to give me half a calming draught so I could sleep that night. Even then, the nightmares were wretched.” 

Bill and Charlie nodded in comprehension. 

“I worked the next day and that speccy git stopped in later and we talked more. It’s not like I don’t know what’s going on. Percy has been diligent in owling me hourly on Mum’s status and progress. But seeing her in that bed, out of her mind because some fuckstrumpet hurt her… I couldn’t cope. I’m still having trouble.” 

“You’re here. That’s good enough for me.” Bill looked back at Percy and Dad talking quietly with Mum. 

“Well, you did go get Ginny. That’s got to account for something, I reckon,” Charlie added. 

“It means we all got to keep our bits. I think the women in our lives will appreciate that.” 

“You better appreciate them now while I’m still in a good mood.” Ginny smirked from Harry’s side. “I’m still bitter that this sod didn’t bother to send a note with George.” 

The men laughed uncomfortably as Ginny kept staring at Harry. 

“Ginny, we talked about this, didn’t we?” 

“Talking for all of 5 minutes before you tried to shut me up with snogging me. You saw how that worked, didn’t you?” 

Harry blushed, hard, and didn’t say another word. 

“Yeah, I thought you’d say that.” 

“Kids, since Mummy’s awake, you don’t have to stay up here with us.” 

“We don’t mind at all, Dad,” Bill spoke up first. 

“But I need to talk privately with Mr. and Mrs. Weasley,” Healer Reeves replied. “There are some things of a sensitive nature I need to speak with them about regarding her future care.” 

“Why don’t you go out to get something to eat and then come back? Will an hour be enough, Healer Reeves?” Arthur asked. 

“An hour will be fine. You’re welcome to share what we discuss but I am bound by Healer oath to keep this information confidential on my side.” 

“Come on you gits. Breakfast at the Leaky is on me.” 

“When did you get so generous, you beady eyed speccy git?” George cheeked. 

“I decided because this gorgeous woman let me keep my bits.” 

Ron made fake retching noises while opening the door for Percy and Charlie. “Where’s my wife?” 

“She went to see Fleur with Angelina. She said that she needed a nap and a shower, without you pawing all over her.” 

“I don’t paw,” Ron whigned. “I fondle and grope like any bloke does to their wife.” 

The other brothers laughed while Ginny punched Ron in the shoulder. The family left laughing, leaving Arthur and Molly in the room with Audrey. 

“Arthur, please take a seat. This will take some minutes.” 

He did next to Molly’s bed, holding her hands in his. 

“Mrs. Weasley, how are you feeling this morning?” 

“I’m boggled. One minute, I was stuck in a nightmare and the next, Ginny was there inside my head, dragging me out. I don’t understand what’s happened except I’m here in a hospital room with my children crying over me. Nothing makes a whole lot of sense. I know something terrible happened but I can’t remember what really happened, just bits and pieces.” 

“You’ve been through a traumatic ordeal that most patients I’ve treated didn’t recover from. You are the miracle, and it’s due to Ginny and Luna and Hermione. They broke hospital regulations and used magic on you when you weren’t in your right mind. Hermione used a legal loophole to perform magic on you, without your consent, by having Ginny consent to it. I think I know what they did and they acted rashly to perform such dangerous magic on you. You benefitted from it, but it could have been disastrous.” 

“Don’t be too hard on them, Audrey. Their intentions were good,” Molly begged. 

“I will have to discuss it with the Director of the Hospital. I’m of the opinion that anything to help the patient is warranted, but he might not see it that way. It’s out of my hands because I’m duty bound to report it.” 

“If you must,” Molly replied. 

“What now?” Arthur spoke up. “What about Molly?” 

“Well, my intention is to keep you here a few days, to make sure you’re sound mentally. I also want to help you ease back into some normalcy of your life, including helping you recover physically. Being confined to a bed for a few days will leave you sore without potions masking it.” 

“I would like to get up but I can’t seem to move my body outside the rails.” 

Audrey pulled her wand from her Healer cloak pocket and wove it over the bed. “I’d forgotten they Healer had put a restraining charm on the bed, to keep you from hurting yourself when you were agitated. Try now.” 

Molly moved her arm over the edge of the bed and stuck her hand out. She pulled it back, shaking. 

“Are you scared, Mrs. Weasley?” 

Molly looked down at her hands and not at the others. “Yes. I feel safe in here.” 

“I’ll work with you today on expanding your boundaries without stress. I’ll also ask that someone from the family is with you at all times until you’re released from the hospital. Finally, we will make arrangements for meeting with you, at home, on continued therapy to help you cope and adjust to what happened to you.” 

“What will that include?” 

“The therapy she needs will be emotionally and mentally painful. From what I understand, she was mistreated and her mind closed to the continued trauma of the kidnapping. To help her heal from it, she will be exposed to those memories, in a safe setting, with others, so she can live as best as possible again.” 

“You’re not trying to cure her?” Arthur asked. 

Audrey sighed. “The only cure for experiences is Obliviation and as a Healer I absolutely refuse to use that spell on a patient.” 

“Luna offered this morning but I refused.” 

“You were a wise woman to refuse.” 

“So how can I help?” Arthur inquired. 

“I’ll make arrangements at the Ministry so you can stay with her this week. The hospital has a victim’s charity trust to help people in your situation. This will let you pay your bills without financially wrecking you. I’ll also submit paperwork for you to take medical leave from the Ministry. I doubt Kingsley will refuse my request.” 

Audrey smiled. “As for you, Mr. Weasley, now that she’s awake, you should get some rest and take care of yourself. I see that you’ve neglected your own needs while this has been happening. Molly needs you and you need your strength to help her recover as best as possible.” 

“Fleur’s tried but I’ve been so worried,” Arthur took his glasses off and wiped them on the square of cloth in his pocket. 

“Then I will make additional arrangements to have some sessions with you too. You will have the burden of helping her recover, more than the children. They will not see everything you will, and in some cases, it’s harder on the husband than it is the wife after an event like this occurs. There’s guilt, regret, anger, abandonment, and paranoia, on both your parts. My duty is to help you work through those feelings so the experience doesn’t tear you both apart.” 

“Will I recover? I want you to tell me.” Molly looked at Audrey but refused to meet her eyes. 

v “Not the way you think. If you’re expecting to have a day where you are magically better, that won’t happen. You can’t go back. The only thing you can do is go forward as best as possible. Some days will be horrible, where you can’t drag yourself out of bed. Others are bright sunshine and clear skies where you feel like you can tackle the world. They might even be subsequent days. As I tell my patients, take them one day at a time and do the best you can. Don’t hesitate to ask others and if your kids get mad, let them. 

“But that is for later this week.” 

“I’m glad you’re the one helping.” Molly spoke up. 

“I am too. But I need to get back to my office and draw up your treatment schedule and clear my appointments today so I can work with you this afternoon and into the evening.” 

Healer Reeves took her stack of parchment and quills with her, leaving the couple in the room. 

“Mollywobbles,” Arthur whispered. “We’ll get through this.” 

“I know,” she reached for his hands and squeezed them. “It doesn’t hurt as much right now.” 

“You know it will later though, right?” 

“Yes, I know. But I know that my family will be there to help.” 

“We’re not leaving you alone in this.” 

“I know.” Molly settled back into the pillows and within minutes was lightly snoring. 

Arthur shifted in his seat and watched Molly sleep. Without anyone else in the room, he wept. 

* * *

“Potter, why the hell are you in here this morning?” I told you that you were off duty until tomorrow night.” Director Robards stared over the two feet of parchment in his hands. 

“I wanted to give you an update on Mrs. Weasley. She woke this morning with her faculties intact.” 

“Bloody hell, the bird lived through it.” Robards pulled his drawer open and lifted the bottle of scotch out of it. “This calls for a celebration.” He poured a measure and handed it to Harry. 

“Sir?” 

“Drink up, son. It’s a miracle that we rescued her in time, with her still alive and mentally coherent. This case was one in a million, even if we lost Jasper.” Robards poured his own glass and downed it. “There’s still going to be hell to pay but it calls for a small celebration.” 

“Have you notified the Smythe family?” 

“Kingsley did that yesterday, in person, at their cottage in Northumbria. Kingsley also awarded him Order of Merlin, third class, for his rescue efforts. It’s a small comfort, considering.” 

“What about Ron?” 

“The family knows about Ron and that it’s not his fault. We received the Healer’s report that he’s off field duty until cleared again. Kingsley felt Ron shouldn’t have to answer to an irate family when he couldn’t discuss the details with them. So, Kingsley took care of the duty. The family’s upset, of course, but also proud that their son was an Auror and mentored others. 

“Well, since you’re here, find Jones and go down to the Portkey office. Take it to Azkaban and _gloat_ a little.” 

“Sir?” 

“You won’t be long. I still need him to admit to more murders. We found two dozen sets of remains in the pond behind the cottage. I’d like to know who it was who he dumped there.” 

“Since his elves are free, they can answer us, if we give them Immunity.” 

“The Wizengamot won’t approve that measure, at all.” 

“Sir, this is about the families. We need those names,” Harry spouted the earlier argument with the Director. “The elves didn’t murder them; Lestrange did. They should be able to tell us what days, at least, so we can start someone on matching the records.” 

“You’re right. And you’ve been the only one to get anything out of him since he’s been remanded. Take Jones and get him to admit to more murders.” 

“He might not budge.” 

“We’ll go from there. Jones can watch the interview outside. After the last time, she’s itching to give him boils on a particular tender part of his anatomy.” 

Harry tried to hide his own adjustment and Robards laughed. “Yeah, you should see her when her temper’s up in training.” Robards chuckled harder. “Now get going with her and find me more answers. The more we know, the more families we can give closure to.” 

Harry hustled out of the room and went looking for Auror Jones. He found her in one of the training rooms, sparring with some new apprentices on their first days in MLS. “Auror Jones?” 

She stopped and got dropped on her arse with stunning spell. “Fletcher, that stunning spell was weaker than water.” She stood up and brushed the dust from her trousers. “What is it, Potter?” 

“Director Robards wants us to go back out to Azkaban to interview our suspect again.” 

“Oh bloody hell, again? Williamson and I wasted two hours last night and he gave us nothing.” 

Harry stood at the doorway while Auror Jones dismissed her training class and put on her jacket and robes. “What changed since last night?” 

She stepped into the doorway and Harry froze her with a look. “Molly woke this morning.” 

“The old bird woke up, huh? She coherent?” Jones took off for the lifts, with Harry racing to keep up with her long and fast strides. 

“Surprisingly so. Hermione said she just woke up this morning. My wife and Luna, my wife’s dear friend, along with Hermione, talked with her once she was coherent. I doubt that’s the entire story but I won’t look a gift sphinx in the mouth.” 

They made their way to the Auror lift and punched the button for the floor for the Portkey office. “You think that bit of knowledge about Molly and Arthur will get him to relent?” 

“It’s worth a try. Robards said they had about 25 sets of remains in the pond behind the cottage. He wants more answers.” Harry stopped before Hemera did. “He’s also not keen on asking the elves, for some reason. I mentioned Immunity for them to get them to talk but he refused to agree.” 

“Robards thinks like a Pureblood, not trusting elves. If we can’t get Lestrange to relent, we’ll let Granger interrogate them for information. I’m sure she can get what we need if that sod won’t talk.” 

“Next,” a tired voice spoke up from the desk. 

“Round-trip key to Azkaban.” 

The diminutive Wizard looked up from his parchment and saw the Aurors standing in front of him. “Credentials and wands, please.” They proffered the information requested and the wizard pulled a manky boot from the pail next to his desk. “Return time?” 

“One hour, ten minutes.” 

The wizard pointed his wand at the boot and it turned bright orange for a moment. “It’s scheduled for 30 seconds from now, with return in the arrivals location. Have a nice day. Next!” 

They stepped aside from the Wizard and held onto it. “Gah, this smells worse than Ron’s boots after a day of training.” 

“Nah, mine are worse from a day hike in Cumbria.” 

The tug started behind his belt buckle and gripped his navel. They spun through the North Sea winds and salt and landed with a **thud** in the Azkaban landing zone. Harry adjusted his glasses and saw four wands pointed at him. 

“Aurors official business.” 

“Show your wands!” 

Both displayed them. Four wands were put away. 

“Here to see Lestrange again?” Harry and Hemera ducked inside the waiting area where a fifth Wizard was stowing his wand. “Sorry about that but you weren’t on the roster for today.” 

Harry shook off his jacket and handed over his wand. “We didn’t know until fifteen minutes ago.” 

“He’s still where we left him yesterday?” Hemera asked and saw the lead Bailiff affirm her question. 

“Um, you’ll have to lead the way. Last time I interviewed the bugger was in the Ministry.” 

Auror Jones took off to her left, making various twists and turns. “Hey! I know this area. This is where Umbridge is housed.” 

“And you’re not going to pester her, Harry. It’s in bad taste to taunt the prisoners.” 

They walked past Umbridge’s cell and kept onward until they made a sharp left. 

Jones stopped at the end of the walkway and pointed her wand at the door. “Stay sharp and remember why we’re doing this.” 

Harry stepped to the now-appearing metal door and opened it just wide enough for him to enter. He closed it behind him and heard a _thunk_. “On your feet, Lestrange.” 

The wizard was on his bunk, appearing to be asleep but his breath changed once the door rattled. 

“You’re awake and giving me grief, Lestrange. Up and at’em.” 

“Go fuck yourself, Potter.” 

“No thanks. Now get your arse off that cot.” 

“Sod off, Wankstain.” 

Harry took the three strides and pulled Lestrange’s foot out of the woolen blankets and dropped him to the concrete floor. “You should listen better, Lestrange.” Harry leaned over and wrestled him around, pinning his arm behind his back. “Confession time, Lestrange.” 

“Naff off! You’re breaking my arm.” 

“I’ll break both of them and let you writhe in pain all day if you don’t tell me what I want.” 

“Fine, just let go.” 

Harry dropped Lestrange and he huddled on the cold floor. “What do you want?” 

“Names, Lestrange. Give me the names of the 25 people in the lake behind your cottage in Portsmouth.” 

“Is that all? I expected more from you, Potter.” 

“Sorry to disappoint you, Lestrange, but I’m not here for your opinion of me. Now I need names, and I want them now.” 

“Oh, they were mostly animals, of low birth and dirty heritage. They weren’t worth an actual burial. I’d not fuss over the ones in the pond.” 

“So you consider Florean Fortiscue of low birth and dirty heritage?” 

“He was a peasant and unworthy of my attention.” 

“Does that opinion extend to Nott and Crabbe?” 

“You’d have to ask one of my elves. I had them dispose of them _somewhere_ ,” he replied flippantly. “They could be _anywhere_ in the country.” 

“So you mean to tell me that the hundred or so bodies we unearthed from your basement were the ones worthy of a proper burial.” 

“My elves wouldn’t disobey me. There’s – Ah, you think you’re cleaver, Don’t you Mr. Potter? I’m not telling you a thing. You have nothing to offer me.” 

“Who says?” 

“The only things I want are a corned beef sandwich with mustard and my freedom so I can wipe out the rest of the Weasley clan.” 

Harry threw back his head and laughed. “Oh you’re funny, Lestrange. You couldn’t even do that, you stupid git.” 

“I’m not stupid, Potter. I already killed Molly and Arthur and I’ll more.” 

“You’re incompetent, Lestrange. You didn’t kill Molly and Arthur. I just left them at the Infirmary and they are still breathing and most certainly alive.” 

“You lie.” 

“And you’re a potions addict. You couldn’t kill Molly and Arthur because Arthur was never with you. You’re the stupid one, Lestrange. You were out of your mind on potions and didn’t realize that was not Arthur you kidnapped the second time.” 

Rabastan rushed Harry and Harry cold-cocked him in the jaw. “Don’t test me again, Lestrange.” 

He rolled onto his side, bleeding profusely from his nose and spat out a tooth. “Damn it, I just had it regrown you twat. You can’t hit me like that. That’s grounds for release.” 

“And I’ll knock’em all down your throat again if you don’t tell me what I want to know.” Harry hid the wince. “And you rushed me and I had to defend myself.” 

“You really want to know?” 

“Yes, Lestrange, I do.” 

“Suck my cock. I’m not telling you anything. Now get me a sandwich, you jumped up half-blood.” 

Harry looked at the door and saw it open slightly. He stepped into the doorway and turned around. “I look forward to the day that you’re put in shackles in the Wizengamot. I can’t wait until you’re given Veritiserum in the stone chair and forced to confess to the shite you pulled on Wizarding kind.” Harry stepped through the door and it shut with a clang. “Face it, Lestrange, you’re as bloodthirsty as that fuckwit Riddle, but nowhere near competent. You couldn’t even kill Arthur.” 

“You lie, Potter.” 

“Nope. Not lying. Sometimes, I wish the old days were still here. I’d be his second in a duel to the death. I’d enjoy watching Arthur wipe the floor with your pathetic arse.” Harry stopped. “Or better yet, I’d bring Molly Weasley in here with her wand. That’d take less than a minute before you were begging for your Mummy.” 

“Potter, wait.” 

Harry stayed on the other side of the door. 

“I’ll give you one, and only one.” 

Harry stood silently. 

“But then you’re not smart enough to understand what I’m about to tell you.” 

“Tell me anyway. I might surprise you.” 

“ _The twelfth son lies atop his namesake. Look there to uncover the puzzle._ ” Lestrange started laughing. 

* * *

“Good Morning Mrs. Weasley. Are you ready to head home?” 

“Good morning, Healer Smalls-Fawcett. I’ve been ready to go home for days now. I’ve been in here too long. What day is it?” 

“It’s Sunday morning.” The Healer made note of her statements on the parchment on his writing board and saw her smiling. “We just had to make sure you were completely healthy, in your head mostly, before we let you go home. You had quite an ordeal.” 

“I’m finding that out now.” 

“And you’ve made your appointments with the Mind Healer next week, right?” 

“I have. Healer Reeves is the one assigned to my case and we’re meeting Tuesday, Thursday, and Friday.” 

“Who will be with you?” 

“Arthur will be with me Tuesday, Hermione on Wednesday, and Andromeda will be with me Friday. Fleur agreed to keep Teddy while Andromeda is with me during the session.” 

“And your sons?” 

“They’ve been working on the house this week so I don’t have to do much unless I want to. Fleur also went to the store and lay in a month’s provisions so I don’t have to go out.” 

“Speaking of your family, where are they? I’d expect them to be here.” 

“I chucked them out of the room last night and told them to go home. My daughter and George’s girlfriend had a Quidditch match yesterday in South America, somewhere, and were due to return late last night. Arthur should be here shortly to take me home. The Ministry gave him leave so he could spend some time at home with me while I recover.” 

“He’s only going to be at one of the Healer appointments?” 

“Yes. Healer Reeves idea is that if he’s always there, then I will become co-dependent, whatever that means. By having other people present at the sessions, I’ll expand my boundaries safely, so she says.” Molly looked around the room while wringing her hands. “Healer Reeves will come to the house the first three weeks, for my comfort. She understands that leaving this room will be hard enough.” 

“Will you go out?” 

Molly wrung her hands in consternation. The wrinkles on her hands shifted along with the new ones on her face. “I want to, I really do. But it’s too soon. Maybe with Arthur with me I can, eventually.” 

“I hope you realize this was a trauma, and not a normal occurrence.” 

“Knowing doesn’t mean I’m not terrified,” she snapped. 

“And that’s a healthy response, Mrs. Weasley.” 

“Mollywobbles,” Arthur spoke when coming in through the door. “I hope you’re ready to go.” He stopped short when he saw the Healer standing there. “Oh my goodness; I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t realize Molly had company.” 

“You’re not bother, Mr. Weasley. I was just chatting with Mrs. Weasley before I sign her discharge papers.” The Healer turned back to Molly who was sitting on the bed, fully dressed, ready to leave. “Do you have any other questions for me before you leave?” 

Molly took a breath and blew it out. “Are the Healers sure there won’t be any lasting side effects?” 

“The magic the kidnapper put on you was old Pureblood magic. The researchers are still looking through the medical journals from hundreds of years ago just to see about your case. I can’t speak for complete certainty, but since you’re day four since you finally woke from the ordeal, we are confident that you’ll have no lasting effects.” He smiled at her. “And if you have any issues, Healer Reeves will be glad to look into them for you.” 

“Thank you,” She spoke quietly with her eyes downcast. 

“Mrs. Weasley?” 

Molly looked up again, but couldn’t quite bring herself to look in his eyes. 

“I realize that your first response is to hide at home, and not go out. But don’t. Get out of the house some. Work in the garden. Feed the chickens. Go visit your Son and grandkids. I promise it will help.” 

“Thank you,” Arthur answered instead. “I’ll look after Molly.” 

“My pleasure, sir.” The Healer finished scribing his notes before leaving the room. 

“Molly, love, dear?” 

She looked up but couldn’t quite look at her husband. “Can we go home? I’d really like to go home.” 

“Of course, love. Which way would you like to go, Side-along apparition or through the Floo?” 

“I’m not up to Floo yet, so would you Side-Along Apparate me home?” 

“Yes, love.” 

Arthur held his arm out for his wife, waiting for her to take it. “I’m scared, Arthur.” 

“Why do you think I have you on my left arm, dear? My wand hand is free and I will protect you, at least today.” He wouldn’t tell her that there were two Aurors disillusioned in the hallway and more at the Burrow for the time being. 

“OK,” she whispered and took his hand. With her holding onto her overnight bag, a gift from Fleur, they left the room they’d spent the better part of seven days in. Each step took courage, but together, they walked ever slowly towards the lifts and another step closer to returning to normal. 

“Did Fleur get everything we need? I’d hate for us to not have something.” 

Arthur brought them into the lift and punched the button _G_. 

“Charlie went with Fleur to purchase groceries. Andromeda kept the kids while they shopped. Bill also checked the wards on the property. Ron and Hermione helped. Percy had our owls diverted to the Ministry, so he can check them before sending them onto us. That’s not a permanent measure, but it’ll do until you’re comfortable receiving post again. He’ll have our post delivered to my office daily until you’re ready.” 

“What about Harry and Ginny?” 

“Ginny returned early this morning. She’s on leave from the National team until the following Sunday. She wanted to skip the January season in Brasil, Chile, and Argentina but her contract couldn’t be broken. But they did give her another week’s reprieve. She’ll help around the house until then. Same for Angelina. 

“Harry’s busy at the Ministry, along with Ron, doing all the paperwork regarding the case. The Wizengamot won’t be in session for another week but then the case will proceed from there.” 

“Do you think they will be able to keep him in there?” 

The lift chimed and the doors opened. Molly peered out before taking the first step. 

“Ron and Harry have their hands full, but since your kidnapper killed an Auror I think he’s gone for good. That’s also not counting your kidnapping, possession of Veritiserum without a license from the Ministry, and two dozen other laws he’s violated – I can safely say he will not be bothering you the rest of his life.” 

They walked slowly down the corridor to the apparition point, letting the sterile white tiles of St. Mungo’s drift past them. People were waiting in the triage waiting room, some looking like they didn’t need to be there. But then Molly didn’t look like she needed assistance to walk out of the A  & E either. 

“Where’s Hermione? You’ve not mentioned her at all.” 

Arthur smiled at the Wizard opening the door for them. “She’s up to her eyeballs in work. She received a promotion and was closing her caseloads before she moved to her new job.” 

They stopped in an alleyway that was hidden from Muggle eyes. 

“What job is that?” 

Arthur winked at her. “I’ll tell you at home.” 

He gripped his wand and felt her stiffen next to him and they spun out of London and onto County Devon. 

They landed with a thud just inside the wards of their property, leaving the chickens slightly startled. 

“We’re home.” 

Her expression brightened once she saw that they were safe at home. “It doesn’t look any different. The yard might look cleaner, but I can’t tell otherwise.” 

A creak from the house alerted Molly to a visitor. Ginny and Hermione were standing in the doorway of the house, clothed in aprons and covered in flour. 

“Why don’t I let Hermione explain further?” 

“You knew they were at the house, you sneaky man.” 

“Of course I did. Do you think I’d bring you home and not have a proper meal waiting on you?” 

They walked up the path towards the house and heard more noise from inside. “Arthur Weasley, what have you done?” 

“It was Charlie’s idea and everyone agreed to it.” He held the door open for her and they walked into the madness known as the Weasley family home. “I had no hand in the idea or the planning. I was told to bring you home today and that was all.” 

_Surprise_ , a cacophony of voices erupted from the house. 

Ginny, Hermione, Fleur, and Angelina were finishing with the celebratory lunch. Audrey was with them, running dishes back and forth towards the kitchen table. Bill had the rest of the men working in the den and parlour, using their wands and collective magic to do a deep cleaning on the rooms. Andromeda was keeping the kids busy in the den. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Well, the ladies said they were going to cook for you and Dad for a few days, under Fleur’s watchful eyes and recipes. Angelina helped with other dishes, too. Ginny and Hermione prepared salads, other vegetable dishes, and breads. Audrey said that she was completely inept in the kitchen with magic so she has been washing dishes and running the food back and forth to the table, as well as washing linens in the scullery.” 

“Wards are intact, Mum. Charlie also repaired the broken shingles above your bedroom and also fixed the leak below the kitchen sink.” Bill smirked. “Percy answered all your mail, and paid the few bills you had. All of us also put some galleons in the vault, so Dad can stay home with you more than the week, if you so want.” 

“Oh my kids,” Molly croaked out before breaking down, “how’d I get such good kids?” 

“Maybe ‘cause you’d wallop us when we put a toe out of line!” Ron cheeked from his place in the den, removing dust from the bookcase. 

“Or maybe it was cleaning the chicken coop before breakfast,” Harry added from the parlour. 

“It could be that we had to pick three bushels of apples for apple tarts on hot summer days,” George quipped as he hefted laundry up the stairs. 

“Degnoming the garden before dinner,” Percy interjected as he laid out the afghans in the den. 

“What my brothers are trying to say, Mum,” Ginny spoke up after pulling her head out of the oven with two loves of baked bread, “is that you taught us plenty about being good kids, while we were working hard doing chores. We’re here helping you so for the next few days and weeks, you can rest up and recover from what happened.” 

Arthur held out a chair for Molly and bade her to sit down. “Looks like the ladies have everything taken care of. You sit for lunch this time.” 

Arthur sat down only after Molly did. Once they had their seats, everyone else found a spot at the table, with most sitting next to their spouse or partner. No one moved to tuck in. 

“Oh come on, I’m knackered and ready to tuck in!” 

A chortle erupted from the table. “You’re always starving!” a symphony response shouted at Ron. 

No one moved until Mum took the first serving of ham from the platter. Then the rest of the family tucked in. 

* * *

The Floo was locked for the evening and a fire crackled in the hearth. The house was quiet for the time being. Molly rested much of the day while the family cleaned up what they messed up in the kitchen and Audrey finished the laundry in the scullery, with Charlie’s assistance in putting everything away. Every single chore Molly could think of was either already accomplished or being finished as she sat on the couch with Daddy. For once, there was minimal fussing at her requests. 

For not working, she was worn out. 

Bill, Fleur, and Charlie left first, pretending to want to go out for an evening with his brother at the pub. Victorie had a tantrum and Fleur was worn out with the baby constantly standing on her hips. Molly knew better. 

Andromeda took Teddy home after he had a tantrum because he couldn’t go with Victorie for the night. 

George and Angelina departed shortly thereafter, with Percy and Audrey following them. Ron and Hermione, along with Ginny and Harry, went down to the village to get dinner before returning to spend the night. 

“It’s quiet in here,” Molly spoke from under Arthur’s shoulder. “I don’t remember it being this quiet in a very long time.” 

“The kids drew straws over who would stay the night with us. Ron and Ginny won. Percy and George will get to stay later this week with us. Charlie will return when he’s ready, just like he normally is.” 

“I’d feel better if everyone was staying the night here. But I understand they need time to themselves, too.” 

“Ron and Harry will be back in a while, Mollywobbles.” He leaned over and kissed her temple. “There’s Aurors on duty tonight, keeping an eye on the property. Kingsley insisted and wouldn’t take no for an answer.” 

“But it’s too quiet.” 

“Do you want me to turn on the wireless?” 

“Please,” she begged. 

“Sure, love.” Arthur got up and turned on the wireless, finding the channel she liked best. Celestina Warbeck came on, mid-chorus and he settled back down into the couch next to his wife. “Better?” 

“Yes, actually.” Molly snuggled and Arthur held her, feeling her head grow heavy on his shoulder. Eventually, she fell asleep, nestled into the jumper she knitted for him at Christmas.” 

With a wand in his hand, he brought over one of the afghan’s Molly had knitted, along with the Daily Prophet for himself. Seven days later and there was still gossip, courtesy of Rita Skeeter, discussing their case along with more innuendo about Ginny and Harry, as well as Ron and Hermione. 

He shook his head and turned the page, looking for news that didn’t involve his family. 

* * *

“Come on Molly. We need to go to bed.” 

Molly lifted her head from his shoulder and looked around the room. “What time is it?” 

“Almost midnight. You were asleep for a few hours. I dozed off too.” 

“Have the kids returned home?” 

Molly stood up first and heard a creak from the first landing. Arthur refused to look up that way. “All of them are in their rooms with their spouses.” Arthur pulled his wand and put Molly on his left arm. “They didn’t want to wake you when they came in.” 

Molly went first up the stairs, stopping at the first landing. Arthur pointed his wand at Ginny’s door and the obvious sounds coming from her room were silenced. “They can hear us, but we can’t hear them.” They continued up the stairs to the second landing. A faint rhythmic creak was coming from the attic. Arthur pointed his wand up the stairs and silenced the top floors off. 

They slipped into their room and locked the door with the deadbolt. Arthur changed out of his robes and put on his flannel nightgown. Molly put hers on too, keeping her back turned from his gaze. He tried to hide the hurt on his face because he knew, from Audrey, this would happen. It would take time for Molly to feel comfortable being vulnerable with anyone again, much less him. 

He pulled back the fresh made bed clothes and cast a warming charm on her side of the bed. He would do as much as possible to give her the normalcy she needed for as long as she needed. He slid in first, watching her put away the clothes she wore into the hamper. Her wand in her hand was tucked under her pillow before she sat down on the edge of the bed. She slipped under the covers and put her head on the warmed pillow. 

A minute later, she snuggled into his side and put her head on his shoulder. Arthur doused the lights in the room, leaving one on at the head of his side of the bed. 

“I hate being afraid.” 

“How can I help you tonight? Do you want a potion?” 

“Not yet. I want to try to sleep without it.” 

“You want me to hold you while you sleep?” 

“Would you please?” She whispered into the quiet room. 

“As long as you want, love.” 

“Arthur?” 

“Yes, love?” 

“Do you remember our vows?” 

Arthur’s breath hitched. “I do.” 

“Why did you refuse your family’s demands of a binding of obedience?” 

Arthur made a choking sound from the back of his throat. “Love, let me ask you this. Do you remember our vows when we eloped?” 

“I do,” she whispered into his skin. “Forsaking all others, for richer or poorer, in sickness and health, until the end of our days.” 

“That binding,” he spat, “goes against the very vows that we took when we married. Our vows are a testimony of faith, of equality, to stand together no matter what happened. It didn’t guarantee we’d have a stress free marriage but it was our vow to one another that we’d face it together. Forcing a woman to take that bond, when the man is left free of it, demonstrated that he didn’t want a wife, a partner, or an equal. It demonstrated that he wanted someone constrained, someone forced to be under his protection, but not his care. It treated her as an afterthought in marriage, nothing more than a concubine for his demands. 

“When I wed you, it was your choice. You chose me. I might have asked, but you accepted. I wanted to share my life with you, as equals, partners and lovers. That binding was nothing more than power and domination and I wanted nothing of it.” 

“I’m glad you did,” she spoke through the flannel on his body. Her breathing evened out and grew deeper. 

Arthur waited until she was fast asleep to let the smothered tears fall down his face. Thoughts raced through his head, questioning everything he’d lived through since the day he met Molly Prewett. 

No matter how much he looked at it, he’d not change a thing – not even giving Lestrange the mercy he didn’t deserve. 

He’d also have to thank his family at some point for bringing Mollywobbles back to him. 

He drifted off to sleep much later on, after thanking Merlin and anything possibly divine that he could have this moment. 

* * *

No one is useless in this world who lightens the burden of another - _Charles Dickens_


	21. May I present

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** I apologize in advance for those who need to skip this chapter, to avoid the sensitive nature of the contents contained within. The fic is still **rated T** but there are trigger warnings for this chapter. Hours of research went into this chapter to make it as real as I could muster. The story isn’t fluffy, not in the least, even with fluffy moments, but I said I would write it honestly and candidly.
> 
> For those of you in Binghamton, the warnings are for violence and assault, mentioned first and second-hand. 
> 
> I won’t apologize for writing it this way – the story demanded it. But I will for those who won’t be able to read it due to the contents. Any disparaging emails regarding the topic will be considered and replied to, either via email or on Tumblr. - _DG_

* * *

“Teddy, do as Aunt Fleur asks and don’t sass her. Do you understand?” The little boy with bright pink hair nodded. Andromeda lowered him to the ground and he scurried from her arms to run after Victorie into the parlour. She had an appointment to keep but needed to make sure Teddy comfortable and content with Aunt Fleur while she kept watch over him the next couple of hours. 

They chased one another through the house before Victorie turned a corner and hid from Teddy. He stood in the middle of the room pouting a bit and instead, he sat down on the floor near the toy box in the corner and pulled out the alphabet blocks. He was instantly enchanted by the letters on the sides, making words that Nana taught him. 

“Would you like something before you leave, Mrs. Tonks? Espresso or perhaps café au lait?” 

Andromeda turned around and saw Fleur standing in the kitchen, preparing coffee with her manual French press. “No, thank you. Molly said that she would have a small lunch for us once we’re finished. I doubt she will be hungry, considering what is happening today, but maybe I can encourage her to have some tea and scones.” 

“Thank you for helping her.” 

Andromeda let the façade slip for a moment, displaying her weakness, anguish, despondency, and exhaustion inside her own soul before it vanished under her recomposed features into perceived haughtiness. 

Fleur smiled. “I hope someday to learn your outward calm.” 

“It’s upbringing, my dear.” Andromeda stood still a moment. “I don’t look forward to what is about to happen but if anyone knows Molly’s condition, I do. I share much in common with her, including the fact that I owe her a debt for her avenging my daughter when I could not. However, her plight is foreign to me. Have I been roughed up before? Yes, when Ted and I protected Harry’s escape. But that was a small price to pay to shelter him. Yet I cannot fathom what Molly is going through now. I don’t know how to help her find that security we all had before everything went sideways. 

“It’s a terrible reminder of how dangerous the world is, especially when cannot control it.” 

Fleur appeared boggled by her enigmatic and cynical comment. 

“Don’t mind an old woman speaking philosophically. I just hope you are never in these shoes that Molly are shoved into. Yet when your children are older, grown and off in the world, you’ll understand. I understand too well about loss and despair. I know those depths intimately along with how difficult it is to rebuild a life shattered like porcelain.” 

Fleur poured a small cup of espresso. “What time will you need me later today? I will gladly bring the children over for Molly’s benefit, should she want that.” 

Andromeda gave a guarded smile, the one she reserved for the people she was undecided on the importance in her life. “I expect to firecall in about an hour or two.” She picked up her purse from the counter and made her way towards the fireplace. “If today goes as I anticipate, then I will be calling in about an hour.” 

Teddy looked up from the enormous pile of blocks surrounding him. “Nana go see Gramma Mobby?” 

“Teddy, you can speak better than that.” She chided him. 

Victorie crawled out of her hiding place and stood next to Teddy. His hair turned a dark shade of brown and looked at the block in his hands. “Is Nana going to see Gramma Molly?” 

“Gramma?” Victorie asked as well. 

Andromeda knelt down to her grandson and smiled warmly. His hair shifted from brown back to candyfloss pink. “Yes, Teddy, I’m going to have tea with Molly. If you’re good, Aunt Fleur will bring you by later with Victorie,” she said in a slight lilt. 

“Tell Gramma Mobby I love her.” 

“Wuf er.” 

“Yes, dears, I will.” She saw Fleur smirking and she replied in kind. Andromeda stepped into the fireplace with the powder and spoke **The Burrow** clearly and was off for the residence further from the coast in Devon. 

She stepped out and smelled fresh baked bread and two witches sitting quietly in the den. A tea service was laid out with three cups on the tray. “Oh, I hope I’m not tardy.” She dusted soot and ash from her travelling cloak and took in the smiles from the other two ladies. 

“Hardly, Mrs. Tonks,” Healer Audrey Reeves spoke up first. “I only sat down with a cup of Irish breakfast tea when the fire flared.” 

“Excellent,” she replied back and removed her cloak from her shoulders. “I was concerned I was late. Teddy took a spell to get ready to go to Bill and Fleur’s residence and then we were discussing his proper use of language.” She deposited her cloak on the stand in the corner of the room. “Teddy and Victorie wanted me to tell you that they love you, Gramma Mobby.” 

Molly laughed, one that was tight in her throat and around her eyes. “They are such sweet children. I do wish they were here.” 

“You know they would be crawling over all of us, wanting stories or chasing each other playing or doing other things. I can bring them by later once we’re finished with our appointment. Now, I’ll be right back, once I get a plate of scones for my tea. Would you start a fire once the Floo is locked?” 

Andromeda busied herself in the kitchen, preparing Lady Grey tea for herself. She poured a cup with a touch of sugar and no milk. She’d drink Irish breakfast if it was the only thing left. She pulled two small vials from her wand pocket and watched them swirl in the glass. One was a calming draught, if Molly needed it. The other was one snoot of Ted’s favorite brand of Scotch, from her own cabinet. There were some times when Firewhiskey wasn’t the right beverage and she wanted to drown in memories of Ted drinking his favorite scotch. 

She walked in with her teacup and regarded the younger woman. Healer Reeves was the best Healer on staff when it came to recovery from catastrophic trauma. She was well liked, highly regarded, and respected in the UK’s medical circles. She was young but she was also incredibly gifted. She was practically family too, having treated many members of the Weasley family as well as being Percy’s long-suffering girlfriend. 

“Would you like for me to lock the house?” 

“I locked it when I arrived, Mrs. Tonks.” Healer Reeves turned and pointed her wand at the Floo. “And now the Floo is locked to everyone. The only ones who can get onto the property are Weasley blood family.” Silently, she lifted some logs into the fireplace and started a fire. The room grew warmer and much more comfortable. 

Andromeda saw Molly taking a deep breath. 

“Feel safe? Comfortable?” Audrey inquired. 

“Thank you. I admit it gets scary sometimes, when I hear a bump and Arthur isn’t in the room. I pull my wand and go look and it’s nothing but a gnome battering the house, trying to get in. But it takes me a few minutes to calm down and remember that I’m safe in here.” 

“Where’s Arthur?” 

“He was here earlier, helping around in the kitchen and thought about tinkering in the shed but I knew he’d pester us constantly, like Teddy, while we were talking. So I sent him to the office for a few hours because I knew that both of you being here today wouldn’t be as scary.” 

“Are you scared right now?” 

“Not right now since both of you are here.” 

“Molly, I brought the two vials, like I promised, should you need them.” Andromeda sat down in the other chair and produced them, letting them float above the table. “These are for you. I have my own if I need them.” 

“Mrs. Weasley, do you want a calming draught before we begin? Last time, all we did was chat about cooking and recipes and how I can help Percy with his laundry.” 

Molly toyed with the biscuit in her hand and gave it up as a bad job. “I’m sick of potions, all of them. I don’t like feeling the way I do when I’m on them.” Molly looked towards the other two ladies, refusing to meet their gaze. “I know what I have to do today and how much it’s going to hurt. If I put it off much longer, it’ll hurt worse when I do have the courage to face it.” Molly took a deep breath. “I’d rather do it now, when I’m still rather boggled at it all, than spending another moment having nightmares of things I don’t understand. I want to do it on my own without those potions fogging my mind.” 

Healer Reeves lifted the chalice in her hands towards Molly. “This calming draught would take the sting out of what we are going to do, and talk about, today.” 

Molly toyed with her navy cardigan. “I have to face up to it, sometime, right? The Aurors need me to give a deposition.” Her eyes grew harder and the crease on her forehead deepened. “I need my anger if I’m going to survive this. That calming draught takes away my anger and if I’m going to face this pain, I want to hurt, so I can get through it.” 

“Molly,” Andromeda sat back in her chair, adjusting the merino wool sweater she had on, “you know pain as well as I do. You know fear, too. That fear is like a huge snake and will choke the life out of you if you continue to let it control your life. The best way to heal from it isn’t running from it, like I did, but to embrace it, give it a hug, and then wring the life out of it.” 

“What I want is to curl up into a ball and hide for a while, like I did with Fred. I can get over it, in time. I did with Fabian and Gideon. I can do it again. I’m strong enough to cope.” She blew out a breath, sucking in another almost immediately. “But you two won’t let me do that, will you?” Two heads gave their affirming opinion. “Then I’ll face it sober and in my right mind. I’ll tell you if I need it today.” 

The Healer put the ornate cup down and tapped her wand. It sealed off, removing the smell of orange blossoms from the air. “If you change your mind, it’s here for you.” 

Molly sat up ramrod straight and looked at the other two women with her. “Let’s get started.” 

“First thing,” Audrey set her parchment and quills on the table in front of her. She tapped the quill and it stood upright in the air. “The date is 18 January 2002, residence of Molly Weasley. Case number 20020103. Healer Audrey Reeves conducting session. For the record, this session is sealed to the Guild of Mind Healers, established 10 May 1945.” 

The parchment turned purple then bright orange before returning to an ordinary stack of parchment. 

“The paper is enchanted by secret Healer spells. This document can only be read by me or another Healer who has to care for you. Furthermore, anything discussed in this room will not leave it, not without your approval. This is my oath, to you, as your Healer. Is this acceptable?” 

“Yes,” Molly whispered. “Merlin help me today.” 

Andromeda left the chair she was sitting in and moved to the couch. “We’re here. We’re not going anywhere. Whatever you say is protected.” 

“I know. It’s still very frightening. But I need to do this. I have to do this.” 

“Mrs. Weasley, let’s start with that Thursday, shall we? We’ll go until you feel the need to stop. You’re also under no obligation for us to cover everything today. We have plenty of time, today or in another session. There is no rush.” 

“I understand.” 

Molly started in on her day, recounting how she flirted with Arthur before he left for work, and then tending the dishes and load of laundry in the scullery before putting on her robes and cloak and apparating down to the village to buy meat for the week. 

Molly froze. 

“Mrs. Weasley?” 

“Something didn’t feel right but I walked into the little alley between the shops. He cast magic on me, and shoved a wand in my throat. I couldn’t scream or fight back. I want to say he immobilized me but I can’t be for certain. 

“He stank, and hissed in my ear. He called me _Little Molly_. I don’t know why he calls me that. I never figured that out.” 

“I can answer that,” Andromeda spoke up. “He called you that from the first time he met you, even if you don’t realize it. We started together and you were a couple of years ahead of us. At the sorting, when we were walking towards the front, you were standing at the head of the table. You couldn’t have been more than a fourth year but you were as tall as you are now.” 

“I take after all the Prewett women. Every single one of them is short. It’s fortunate that Ginny grew some her last year at Hogwarts. I’d have hated her to be five feet tall, not with all of her brothers looming over her.” 

Andromeda chuckled. “I thought I was short until I saw you. Alas, he walked by and saw you standing and muttered, ‘ _She could fit in one of my robe pockets, she’s so little._ ’” Andromeda shook her head. “I thought nothing of it then, but then he grew taller and by the end of the year, he was already half a foot taller than you.” 

“Oh, that seems innocent enough.” 

Andromeda made an unladylike sound. “That was his first year. By the time you were in your last year, and he had grown up even taller, he wasn’t as _nice_ about it. He already preferred the company of the boys in his house over anyone else, save a particular ginger Gryffindor. Lusted after, more like it. But he still had to act the part. So when he referred to you as a 7th year, there was more malice in it when he said it.” Andromeda gave Molly a sideways look. “No, by then, he was rather cruel towards you, at least in private. To spare your sensibilities, I won’t mention them.” 

“What did he say?” Molly requested with iron in her voice. 

”You really want to know? Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Andromeda said to herself. Molly glared. “Fine. He said that if he bent you over a table, he’d break you because you were so little.” 

“Oh that’s wretched. What a disgusting wizard.” 

“You asked! He was a nasty piece of work before we were finished with Hogwarts. Then my parents had the audacity to betroth me to him, to give him respectability and give them grandchildren? Rubbish! Now you comprehend why I refused to marry the sod and ran off with Ted. I despised him so much!” 

“If we can proceed,” Healer Reeves gently chided. “Let’s talk about what happened before you were kidnapped.” 

Molly fidgeted in her seat and reached for the pillow from Arthur’s chair. Her face turned pale and a light sheen broke out above her brown. 

“Mrs. Weasley, do you need something right now?” 

Molly shook her head vigorously. “I didn’t know who it was, at first. He looked nothing like I remember. His robes were tattered and moth-eaten, and he stank. It wasn’t a normal stench either. Something set me off and I couldn’t tell where from. He hissed about Arthur before he shoved his wand in my face. I watched him put that deplorable marriage binding on me. 

“Part of me was boggled, since he knew I was married. Nothing made sense. The other part was furious, that he put that on me when he had no right to do so. I wanted to strangle him with my bare hands and I couldn’t. I was stuck, unable to move. I should have fought back and couldn’t. 

“That feeling gnaws at me, that he made me powerless.” 

“He has enough blood on his hands that one more wouldn’t have mattered to him. Had you fought then, he’d have killed you.” Andromeda was stoic. “I recall him trying to kill your brothers while they were still in school. He was around the twist well before he was finished Hogwarts.” 

“I’ve had sleepless nights thinking that if he’d killed me, he’d have gone after Fleur, or Victorie, or even Ginny.” Molly dabbed her eyes. “He could have killed me then but didn’t. He could have easily targeted Fleur, or Victorie, or anyone else. I can’t fathom why he’d go after me.” 

“Please continue, Mrs. Weasley. We’ll discuss the consequences of _What if_ another day. Today is just talking about what happened, to get it out in the open.” 

Molly looked at the quill writing across the parchment, magically charmed to dictate correctly. It stilled moments after Audrey finished speaking. 

“I recognized the incantation when he cast it on me. Aunt Muriel was the last Prewett woman to endure the barbarism of that particular marriage binding. Arthur refused to use it because he said it was as loathsome as chaining a dragon.” Molly looked at Andromeda. “Is that part of why you eloped? Ted wouldn’t ask that of you?” 

“Mostly, that and if we didn’t elope, Father would have had Ted murdered to keep the betrothal. Ted was a gentle giant, bar none. He stood up to my father when we went home to inform them of our marriage. Ted respected me as an equal. He always did. I would never get that from Rabastan.” 

“Ladies?” Audrey asked. “Can we get back to what we need to talk about?” Andromeda gave Healer Reeves a stern look but saw that she didn’t back down from her intense look. 

“I wanted to run or apparate away but I was trapped with nowhere I could go. I felt the cold through my cloak and jumper, felt it seeping through my skin. But when I tried to say something, he’d silenced my voice. I couldn’t yell for help, or even curse his name. There was brick everywhere, including behind my back. I desperately wanted to apparate but the binding locked me to his will. I was as powerless as a newborn.” 

“What did you feel, Mrs. Weasley? Can you tell me about that?” 

“Terror. I couldn’t lift my wand. I had no idea how to break the spell he’d inflicted on me. I couldn’t even cry for help. I was so angry at him, for making me powerless. But there was something I could. I could show him how angry I was. So I slapped him as hard as I could muster. He staggered and shook his jaw. I know it hurt him because he didn’t respond for a moment. But when he did,” Molly drifted off into the painful memory. 

“What happened, Mrs. Weasley?” 

“He grabbed my throat and shoved me into the wall behind me. From then on, things are a bit fuzzy. I might have dropped my wand but I can’t remember what happened to it.” 

“It sounds like he gave you a concussion. A brain bruise like that would make it difficult to remember events afterwards. There’s nothing to be ashamed of.” 

“One of the elves had your wand. They’d kept it under Lestrange’s order. Had the Aurors found it, they still would have known it was a kidnapping. It’s not like you to have left behind groceries you’d just purchased.” Andromeda saw the boggled looks on the other witch’s faces. “Kingsley told me over dinner one evening. Once the elves were released from Lestrange’s service, they were more than happy to assist Kingsley and Robards with their inquiries.” 

“I know I was mad. I couldn’t tell you what I was thinking, just that my head hurt. But I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction in knowing he hurt me.” 

Healer Reeves reached forward for her cup of tea and took a drink. “Please, continue.” 

Molly reached for her cup and took a drink too. 

“If you need the draught – “ Healer Reeves asked. 

“Or even the snoot I brought from home, they are available.” 

“No,” She replied immediately. “I have to do this. I can’t let him haunt me anymore. I have to face this and make the nightmares go away. You said the longer I hide, the harder it is to overcome.” 

“So far, we’ve recorded and documented what he did to this point. Are you well enough to continue?” 

“I have to do this. I can’t keep hiding.” Molly looked at the two women present with her. One was as young as her children. The other was her age, almost, and had paid the price for her choices many times over. “My girls, Ginny, Hermione, and Luna, showed me that I don’t have to cower in fear. I can be scared and still do this.” 

“We’ll take as much time as you need, Mrs. Weasley.” 

Molly took another sip from her tea cup. The fire crackled in the fireplace while Audrey sat quietly, her quill still above the floating parchment beside her. 

Andromeda sat still, waiting patiently in polite silence. 

“We landed somewhere. I have no idea where I was except it was cold. It was the kind of cold you get from the ocean or a large body of water. That hurt as much as my head did.” She took a deep breath. “He dragged me through the wards of his property. It stung, nothing like the wards on our property. My skin felt like it was being flayed with nettles for a moment but the feeling went away. I slipped in the mud some, and the mud was cold too, covering my shoes. I don’t know why I remember that when other things are a blur. But we trudged through the mud, with him dragging me some and shoving other times, towards the small cottage where he was staying. 

“He opened the door with his wand and there was an elf standing there in the foyer. 

“He said, ‘ _Mopsy, take our guest to her room. Lock her in there until I return._ ’ This elf looked young, unlike the one that Harry has. She was polite and kind when she took me upstairs to the room. She apologized for having to lock me in the room ‘ _it’s for guest’s safety that we obey Master Lestrange._ ’ I didn’t see her again.” 

“Kingsley said that Lestrange had six elves working for him but he didn’t mention any one elf specifically. I’m sure you can ask Hermione the next time you talk with her regarding the elves and their welfare.” 

Molly continued to stare off into the recent past, letting the silence save the fire smother the inhabitants. 

“Molly? Do you recall what happened next?” Healer Reeves inquired. 

Minutes passed as Molly stayed quiet. Andromeda reached out and barely touched her hand. “Molly, answer the Healer’s question, please.” 

Molly jumped at the contact and pulled her hand back. Andromeda smiled softly in understanding. Audrey previously told her that Molly would be uncomfortable with people touching her for a very long time and it would take patience for her to regain comfort of human touch again. 

“What I remember is that the room was quiet, entirely too quiet, like the days after Fred died. My head was fuzzy and I couldn’t speak. Everything was strange and nothing made much sense. I don’t know how to really explain it but I just felt strange. It was like I had fallen into the pond out back and gotten my feet stuck in the mud but it wasn’t mud.” 

“I’m going to make a guess and say that it was the binding magic he cast on you. I can’t say with certainty what it involves since that particular situation only happened twice in the last hundred years or so, that we know of. I presume that the magic was playing havoc almost immediately with your mind, much less your magical abilities.” Audrey’s quill continued to scribe across the parchment. “I hope to have some better answers in a week or so, depending on our magical researchers. Answers, as little as they are, will help in your healing.” 

Molly muttered something under her breath before continuing. 

“I don’t remember how long I sat there in that room. It could have been a minute or hours. Time didn’t act right in there. I realize now that must have been my head trying to wrap itself around my situation but at the time, everything seemed utterly mental. 

“But then _he_ came into the room and I wanted to tear his throat out. I wanted to hex him twenty ways but I couldn’t bring myself to lift a finger to hurt him. It wasn’t for a lack of want. In fact, his snaggletoothed straggly face makes me want to beat him to a pulp like my Ronnie would. But I couldn’t raise a hand to him.” 

“That is the binding, Molly. You’d know it instantly had you taken that bond in marriage. That’s how a wizard controls his witch’s _fits_ , as they were described at home. There were plenty of times that Mum would rage about Father but when he was there, standing in front of her, she’d be demure and submissive, polite and civil. Of course, if Father wasn’t there and it was the elves, or her children, plenty of dishes were thrown at walls. It wasn’t until I was older that I came to understand how the binding magic worked. He controlled her, dominated her, and her anger turned on others, like the elves, her children, even other witches. He thought he was being a good Wizard but it drove Mother mental. 

“He controlled her magic, but not her, not completely. I’m sure Lestrange learned that lesson as well from his parents.” 

“What else happened, Mrs. Weasley?” 

“He opened the door further and his elf came in. This one brought a tray with him. The elf bade me to eat and drink up since I would be with him a little while. I didn’t want to. Merlin knows I didn’t want to. There could have been poison in the glass or in the food. But I did as he asked. I didn’t want to but I watched my hand reach out for the glass of water and drink. It tasted bland but then my head went even fuzzier. 

“I would swear he asked me question about Arthur but I’m unsure. I think I answered one of them but then my mind is a complete blank.” 

Molly looked at Audrey and she was wearing her clinical face while her quill was scribing so fast it flew across the parchment. 

“Mrs. Weasley, he doused you in Veritiserum. He asked questions and you answered them. That is how he knew so much about you. He asked so he could write the ransom letter to Arthur. He used the information to make him act.” 

“He always considered himself clever,” Andromeda added, “– which he isn’t at all. He’s also about as subtle as a troll with a tree branch.” 

“He doused me with Veritiserum? What else did I give away to that fiend that I don’t realize?” 

“There’s another charge for him once he’s brought before the Wizengamot,” Audrey muttered while moving another sheet of parchment to the quill. “I’ll inform the Aurors about that incident, just to have it added to the growing list of evidence.” 

“He might have considered the information to do more harm to the family, or blackmail material on others in the ministry or other sordid affairs,” Audrey replied without looking up from her notes. “Maybe he planned more kidnappings. I can’t say with certainty.” Audrey gave Andromeda a hasty glance before looking back at her parchment. 

“Rabastan is a manipulative sod and used blackmail when violence would get him into trouble. He always profited handsomely from the information he received. Blackmail was his currency and it paid extremely well.” Andromeda gave Molly a shrewd look. “I have a feeling that he asked you questions about Kingsley so that he could use to get to him and harm him. He’s older but held a grudge against him, and others, since he was a child. 

“You see the end result of keeping grudges instead of letting go. It’s poisoned him as much as those bloody pain potions did.” 

Molly continued. “I know I got a second cup of tea and my head cleared up some. I remember him standing there, leering at me and it was frightening.” 

“What did he say, Molly?” 

“Andromeda, what you just said now makes sense. He said, ‘ _You just paid for your stay at Lestrange Manor._ ’ He cackled before leaving and locking me in the room.” 

“Molly? Do you remember that moment vividly?” 

“I do. It was like waking up from a fuzzy dream that you can barely comprehend.” 

“Would you consent to me performing Legilimens on you, to see the occurrence from when he doused you, to when he made that statement?” 

“Will it hurt?” 

“Molly,” Andromeda brought her attention to her, “I insisted Healer Reeves demonstrate her skill on me before using the spell on you. Her touch is most delicate, unlike a man. You won’t notice it, like you’d notice a butterfly kiss on your arm.” 

“Done,” Healer Reeves spoke. Molly turned back to Audrey and saw her shaking slightly. 

“You did it while Andromeda talked to me, didn’t you?” 

“I did. Did you notice?” 

“No, I didn’t.” 

“Your fear response overwhelms almost all of the other reactions right now. But Mrs. Tonks is right. She _insisted_ that I use it on her multiple times before I could perform such magic on you.” 

“What did you witness? What frightened you?” 

Audrey stood up from her seat and went to the Fireplace. She had a piece of parchment in her hand and hastily scribbled on it. She reached into the earthen Floo pot and pulled a handful of powder out. “Minister of Magic’s office, on Healer Reeves authority. I have an urgent security request, level three sensitivity, level five priority.” 

The fire turned green and Audrey stuck her head into the fireplace. A voice on the other end spoke for a moment before Audrey pulled the top half of her body out of the fire. It settled back into regular flames but she was coated in ash and soot. 

“What was that about?” 

“I delivered an urgent note to the Minister. Molly, under the Veritiserum dose, divulged Kingsley’s dinner schedule with you. The information could be used to target the Minister, and you, Mrs. Tonks.” 

“I told him that?” 

“You are not responsible for what you told him under Veritiserum. My note to Kingsley informs him of that.” 

“Did I tell him anything else?” 

“Quite a bit, but nothing so pressing as a potential assignation attempt.” 

Molly put her head in her hands and shuddered. “What else did I tell him?” 

Audrey looked to Andromeda and hesitated. Hand motions and shoulder shrugs worked as well as out-loud conversation. Andromeda finally gave permission for Audrey to continue. 

“He pried open your mind and asked a lot of question, regarding Arthur, but he also asked a lot about Ginny. You told him about her being abroad and constantly travelling and never coming home to see her dear mother who loved her.” 

“Well, that’s certainly true! She never is home more than a few hours before she’s off again.” 

“But he,” Audrey stopped and lifted her tea cup and took a drink. She set it back down and the quill wrote frantically across the parchment. 

“What is it? What frightened you, Healer?” Andromeda saw the shakes fighting to erupt. 

“He asked about Percy and Molly told him the location of his flat in Diagon Alley.” 

“You spend a lot of time there too, right?” Andromeda asked when Molly refused to inquire. 

“I do,” She replied. “I just, well, I never considered that a mass murderer would contemplating targeting me and Percy.” 

“Did you inform the Minister?” 

“I did. I’m sure someone from the Auror office will check it today with him.” 

“You’ll stay here until Harry can check.” Molly’s voice commanded obedience. 

“Yes, Mrs. Weasley.” 

Andromeda laughed. “I shouldn’t laugh since this is the man my parents wanted me to marry but it really is surreal.” 

“Mrs. Weasley, now that we know you were forced to divulge sensitive personal information, we’ll continue with the discussion.” 

Andromeda leaned over and freshened up the tea for the other ladies. 

“What else do you remember, Mrs. Weasley? Anything in particular?” 

“I had a moment of clarity later. I couldn’t tell you when but he came into my room demanding why Arthur hadn’t shown up at the house.” 

“So you recall what you told him?” 

“I can’t be certain.” 

“What do you think you said?” 

Molly leaned back on the couch and rested her head on the back cushion. “I can’t be sure, but I think I begged him to spare Arthur’s life.” 

“Did he let you talk sometimes?” 

“I think so. But so much of it is fuzzy. So much of what I remember doesn’t make sense.” 

“Tell us what does make sense, and when it doesn’t, I can go in and look at it and try to help. Or tell us those few things that do seem real.” 

“I remember an elf talking to me. I remember crying. I remember begging for Arthur’s life. I remember trying to fight him every time I saw him but nothing happened.” Molly looked away from the other two women into the crackling fire. 

Silence smothered the room once again. 

“Molly, I think you’re hiding something, whether intentionally or not.” Andromeda put her cup down and turned towards the older woman on the couch. “If you hide things, they will fester.” Andromeda made a motion with her hand and Audrey pointed her wand at Molly and silently performed Legilimens. 

“I remember things and I don’t know if it’s frightening or confusing and I can’t figure it out and that’s what’s making me mental. I’m not trying to hide _anything_ and I certainly don’t want it to fester.” 

Audrey dropped her wand and looked at the two women. “Andromeda, can I speak with you a moment in the kitchen?” 

“Is this in regards to her treatment and care?” Andromeda sat up on the couch. 

“You can talk in front of me. I am right here,” Molly huffed. “We are talking about _my_ treatment.” 

“My concern, Mrs. Weasley, is that part of what is befuddling you, is what I saw and I wanted counsel from Mrs. Tonks how to proceed forward.” 

“Did you see something that confused you and you are unsure how to assist Molly?” 

“Frankly, yes.” Healer Reeves turned to Molly and sat forward. “I saw a glimpse of two young men, with ginger hair and amusing smiles. They are constantly crossing your memories.” 

“Oh, that must have been Fred and George when they were younger. They were such troublemakers.” 

Healer Reeves shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. I know George and this wasn’t him. Their clothes reminded me of the 1970s and things I wore that I hated growing up. I’m confused as to who they are and why it was important enough to be in the focus of your intrusive thoughts, ones that if you were asleep would be nightmares, are impinging in your waking thoughts. I don’t have a basis of knowledge to know why they are there and why these memories are upsetting you.” 

Molly sat still but fidgeted with the hem of her jumper. 

“Molly, what is it?” 

She refused to speak. 

“Is what you are thinking right now hurting?” 

Molly nodded and a lone tear slipped out and trailed down her cheek. 

“Mrs. Tonks, would you?” 

“I’m not skilled enough for what you ask.” She turned to Molly. She’d picked up a pillow and was holding it to her middle, rocking slightly in her seat, refusing to acknowledge the others. Molly watched the fireplace, weeping without making a sound. 

“Blimey, I was afraid of this. She’s going to need a calming draught to continue.” Audrey lifted her wand for the chalice in the middle of the table. 

“Bollocks,” Andromeda growled. “Molly, speak to me. Was this about Fabian and Gideon? Are you thinking about them?” 

The two witches saw her face crumble completely before she shoved her face into the pillow. One lone sob broke through before she fell back into the backrest, screaming into it. 

“Who are Fabian and Gideon?” 

The muffled scream continued, interrupted for a brief moment before she continued. 

“Molly had two younger twin brothers, Fabian and Gideon Prewett. I remember them being very mischievous and loved to play pranks on people. Fred and George took after them, so I’m told. Most of them were innocent, except when it came to Rabastan. They were in their third year when I was Head Girl at Hogwarts. They harassed Rabastan often, and one time was too much for him. He chased them and tried to kill them in the halls at school because they laughed at him when a prank happened in the Great Hall.” 

“Their pranks were rather funny but Rabastan was so prickly that any slight threw him into a rage.” 

Molly turned on the couch and shoved her body as far as it would go into the cushions. She continued to wail like a banshee, releasing what seemed like decades of unfathomable grief. 

“I’d hold her and let her cry,” Andromeda started. 

“It wouldn’t work and she wouldn’t let you touch her. She has to do this, for herself.” Audrey took a deep breath. “It’s stressful but necessary so please, continue.” 

Andromeda picked up her cup and took a sip before setting it back down. 

“Fabian and Gideon Prewett were murdered in July 1981. Antonin Dolohov was implicated and tried but there were others, too. For a long time, there was no evidence who exactly murdered them besides Dolohov. Sure, we knew it was Death Eaters. Their forces were strong but also more _restrained_ than they were the second time around. They’d hunt those who dared resist them. And Fabian and Gideon Prewett resisted the Death Eaters, repeatedly. Whether it was bad luck or they were targeted, they were caught and it was five on two. They killed two fighting for their lives but still perished. 

“Their deaths made the morning edition since they were found slumped together next to Gringott’s.” 

Molly continued to sob into the pillow she clutched to her face. 

“So I was told, Molly went into labor soon after their funeral with Ginny and it nearly killed her. I remember Arthur mentioning that one evening over dinner.” 

“Do you think she ever truly dealt with their murder?” 

Andromeda looked at the broken witch next to her and made an uncharacteristic sigh. “Way she’s reacting? No, she never did. I think all of this with Lestrange made those buried memories resurface and are causing havoc with her, too.” 

“Did you say that she nearly died giving birth to Ginny?” 

“Arthur told me one day over tea. Molly was tending Teddy and we were sitting quietly. He recounted what happened with Molly and how hard it was on her emotionally, with her brothers and then Ginny. He said she bounced back pretty well, considering she had a houseful of kids and a daughter who needed her constantly for the first few months.” 

“We’ll give her a calming draught. This is a good step, that she’s facing these things finally, even if it’s hurting so much right now.” 

“I have a better idea,” Andromeda insisted. She leaned forward and plucked the amber vial from the air. She opened the cork stopper and poured it into Molly’s teacup. “It’s a wee dram of Ted’s favorite beverage. He grew up Muggle and some things never changed. It’s scotch and it’ll suffice.” She poured more tea into the cup, adding a small spoonful of sugar. “Now we can.” 

“Mrs. Weasley, can you put the pillow down? Andromeda made you a fresh cup of tea for you to drink.” 

Molly continued to clutch the worn pillow to her face, shuddering violently inside her robes. 

Working together, they released the pillow from Molly’s clutches. Her face was a wreck and her brown eyes were dull, the light temporarily gone out of them. Bright red splotches marred her ashen skin on her face and cheeks, along with her freckles standing out harshly in the candlelight. Even her lips were cracked from screaming so much. 

“Now, now, drink some tea. It’ll help. We’ll take a break and let you rest up.” 

“I’m so sorry.” Molly took a drink from her tea cup to soothe her broken voice. “I don’t know what came over me or where that came from.” 

“I do. That’s what happens when you let something fester for 30 years and then it pops up and you have to deal with it.” 

Molly glared at Andromeda. “You think I didn’t grieve, for years, over Gideon and Fabian? You think I just said _pshaw_ and kept going? No, damn it! I bloody well hurt. But I couldn’t wallow in my grief because I had 7 kids to take care of. My children needed me more than I needed time to grieve over my brothers. You hear me? They needed me! I could only do so much! 

“I _had_ to put on a mask, keep trudging along, especially when it came to caring for Ginny. She was a newborn and she was born a month early. She needed me, for months, until she was strong enough.” 

“No, I don’t think you did,” Andromeda replied, steel supporting her opinion. “I’m not ignorant, Molly. I think you were so caught up in caring for Ginny and keeping the twins from burning the house down that you neglected everything else and used their needs as your distraction. You couldn’t cope so you didn’t. You are the one to get up at 3am and bake bread and start breakfast for the family. You are the one who walks the house when you can’t sleep. You have bouts of insomnia that drive you to exhaustion before you can sleep. You’ve told me that on many occasions, when I notice that you are withdrawn and too quiet, too still. You’ve told me, on occasion, that you still check the rooms, thinking that the kids are asleep in their beds when they moved out years prior. 

“I watch and I pay attention. My upbringing demanded it of me. Everything you did with your children was due to what you’ve lived through. You were terrified of anything happening to them, after losing your brothers. I’ve lived through it too, if you recall. But it doesn’t mean that you have to _keep_ living that way. Audrey wants to help and to do that, she has to get to the source of the problems, help you face it, and heal from it.” 

“You can’t heal a broken heart!” Molly screamed in frustration. “You think I’ve not tried to, repeatedly?” Her voice broke on the last word. 

“You think I don’t know that?” Andromeda snarled. “You don’t think I know how it is to lose everything that is important to me, ‘cept a small bundle of screaming joy that is the only thing you have remaining of all that I love and hold dear?” 

“Ladies,” Audrey begged. She was ignored completely. 

“How can you know? How can you know the depth of my pain?” 

“How can I know? I’ve survived it,” She whispered. “You’re being selfish, Molly. My parents died and I wasn’t welcome. My husband was murdered and there was nothing for me to bury. There was my daughter, and her husband, murdered in cold blood by my _dear_ sister,” hemlock infused venom dripped from her brittle voice, “which you avenged her death.” 

“My brothers, my son,” Molly retorted. 

“And you still have your husband and six of your children. It doesn’t mean your pain means rubbish. It means that you should consider helping those who do need you rather than mourning those who you can’t help.” 

“Ladies, leave the wand measuring to the Wizards, please!” 

The older witches glared at one another, daring the other to speak first. Molly turned her head first. She collapsed, her anger melting away before she shrank down into the couch. 

“You’re right. I should be thankful that I didn’t lose my entire family that damn night. I could have just as easily lost all of them instead of only one. I’ve lost so much but it could have been worse.” Molly hiccupped once again. “That witch could have killed Ginny. That bloody werewolf could have killed my baby boy. So much could have gone wrong and didn’t.” 

“I won’t tell you I told you so because that would be rude,” Andromeda sat up tall in her seat, “But once again, let me remind you that, for everything that has happened in your life, you still have so much more to live for.” 

“How can you be right all the time?” Molly took another sip of her tea. Color flushed across her face and onto her cheeks. “You sneaky bint. You put that snootful into my tea.” 

“I thought you needed it. You’d have not rowed with me if you were completely sober.” 

“Yes I would. But you’re the only one I can row with.” 

“Ladies, if we can proceed?” 

“After you,” Andromeda cheeked sarcastically. “We’re here for you.” 

“Alright,” Molly set her cup down and picked up her magically dried and warmed pillow. “Where were we?” 

“I performed legilimens on you and saw your brothers. You had a histrionic fit of rather profound proportions. It started after you were talking about begging for Arthur’s life.” 

Molly settled back into the chair and settled into the quiet. 

“I remember things, but it’s like a puzzle with the pieces missing. Some things don’t make sense because there’s no context to what I remember.” 

“Would you like for me to look again?” 

Molly continued to sit, wrapping her arms tighter around the pillow on her lap. “It feels like cheating, letting you look at it rather than talking about it, even if it’s out of context and makes no sense.” 

“Is it cheating to take a calming potion so you can sleep the night? Is it cheating to cast a cheering charm when the day is just so dreadful? Is it cheating that you feel any kind of happiness when you can’t get out of bed?” 

Molly ignored the others in the room while watching the fire burn in the hearth. The other two conversed silently. 

“One night, and I think I was there a while, I saw a really old elf come into the room, begging me to eat and drink the tea he made for me. I refused him, but he said something that didn’t make any sense. He said,” Molly picked up her tea and saw that it had been freshened up, “he said ‘ _Madame Molly needs to eat and drink._ ’ None of the other elves referred to me by name.” 

Audrey looked to Andromeda for askance and received permission. 

“Kreacher volunteered to check on you. The Aurors couldn’t get into the house. He said he touched you and you got very angry and tried to hurt him.” 

“Oh no! I didn’t mean to! I would never intentionally hurt an elf, especially Harry’s elf.” 

“We know. Kreacher is how we knew you were still alive, and we could rescue you.” 

Andromeda motioned for that to be struck from the transcription. “You can’t tell anyone else about his involvement, ever.” 

“I understand,” both witches replied immediately. 

“Anything else?” 

“I could have sworn that I saw Harry one time. Charlie too. But that can’t be. It must have been a nightmare or something.” 

“No, they showed up to rescue you. You attacked them.” 

“I’d never hurt Harry, ever!” 

“You tried to. They rescued you from the house and took you to the Healer so he could start treating you.” 

“All of this is so confusing. I’m boggled because none of it makes any sense. I can’t piece it together to tell you what happened. That’s distressing, that I can’t tell you much of what happened while I was there because of what he did to me.” 

“So tell me about that? What’s perplexing to you?” 

“He hurt me but I can’t actually remember much more than when he first kidnapped me. I know I fought back but every time I try to recall what specifically happened, it blows away like the morning fog on a moor.” 

“If I might offer an explanation,” Audrey put her cup down along with the floating quill. “Your mind will block some things to protect you. You feel it, the hurt, but you can’t remember why. It feels like you were obliviated but your body won’t forget the pain.” 

“So you mean it’s OK?” 

“Yes, and No. The only way that you will recall what happened is if I go in with magic and dig it out. That would hurt more than what you went through. The pain will subside, eventually, but if the memories surface, the pain will return, with some intensity. I can’t guarantee it’ll stay buried.” 

“Tell us, so we can help.” 

Molly pulled the pillow into her lap and started rocking. “He,” trailed off. 

“What happened, Molly?” 

“Tell us, Mrs. Weasley.” 

“He demanded to know about Victorie.” 

“What did you do?” Andromeda moved closer yet kept her hands in her lap. “Tell me what happened.” 

“I remember that _He_ tried to douse me. I refused. He tried to make me drink and I refused. I think I knocked the cup out of his hand, breaking it on the furniture.” 

“Something happened, didn’t it?” 

Molly’s turned harsh. “He hit me with his fist, repeatedly, trying to get me to relent. I refused. He asked and I bit my tongue to keep from speaking to him. He knocked me down and screamed at me. I still refused. He pulled his wand and I still refused. He finally gave up and left, complaining about wasting the precious potion.” 

“Molly, you know he’s in Azkaban and he won’t be getting out.” 

Color flooded her cheeks and spread to her neck and ears. “Merlin help him if he does get out. I won’t be a victim this time.” 

“You’re going to be responsible for keeping him in there, Mrs. Weasley. You will have to go before the Wizengamot at some point and give testimony against him, to keep him locked away. You’re going to face him and put him in there for the rest of his life.” 

Molly turned a splendid shade of green before leaving the couch. Noises erupted from the kitchen before heavy footsteps ascended up the stairs to the bathroom. 

Molly shoved open the door and rushed to the toilet. She shuddered and heaved again, finding no relief to the upset flooding her body. “I can’t,” She muttered before her stomach revolted again. “I can’t, I can’t,” she chanted the litany flooding her mind. 

Careful hands lifted her hair from her neck, putting a cold water flannel there. “Healer Reeves apologized for telling you that. I told her it was too soon but she said you would have to face it now or later on.” 

“I can’t,” Molly spoke into the clean toilet. “I see him in my nightmares. I can’t face him again, not yet. Not ever. There has to be another way” 

“He’s done so many terrible things. But this was how he was caught this time. They will need your testimony to secure his conviction. The Aurors will need you, especially to get those other families’ closure.” 

“He’ll be there.” Molly broke again in hysterical sobs. 

“I know. I will be too. So will the rest of your family. He’s one vile wizard but you have your entire family to support you. He won’t be able to touch you again. I promise you that. I’ll raise my wand first before he can do so.” 

Molly quieted after a while. Andromeda squeezed her shoulder before departing, leaving Molly the cold comfort of the silent room. 

Minutes later, she stood up from the toilet and went to the sink to scrub her mouth and wipe her face with a new flannel. The cool water was a relief from the grief that poured out just now. 

“Pull yourself together, witch.” 

_Knock knock knock_

“Mrs. Weasley?” 

“I’ll be out in a tic,” she replied to Audrey’s inquiry. She quickly cast a few rudimentary charms, to hide the puffiness under her eyes and as well as fill in the dark circles there. She finished applying the necessary charms before opening the door to her Healer. 

“You don’t have to hide from me, Mrs. Weasley.” Audrey smiled. “I’m not going to tell anyone how rough today’s session was for you. I’m bound by my Healer’s oath to protect you, even to the extent of my life.” 

“I don’t want anyone to worry about me. So much of what I’m thinking, much less feeling is silly and complete rubbish.” 

Molly departed the bathroom and made her way downstairs to the kitchen, working to start another kettle of water for tea. 

“You’re wrong there, Mrs. Weasley. Your family does worry about you, especially with everything you went through at the hands of your kidnapper. No one is going to think less of you for not being able to fight back any harder than you did.” 

“They don’t need to know,” Molly muttered. “It’s one thing for Andromeda to know. She’s been through enough in her life. She’s a mother and understands what I’m feeling. But I don’t want to trouble Arthur, or the kids, that I have terrible insomnia, or that the nightmares are keeping me awake every night unless Arthur holds me and keeps me safe. I can’t demand that of him. He needs his rest, too.” 

“You have potions to help you cope, for now. Why aren’t you taking them?” 

“I hate how I feel when I’m on them.” 

“So you’d rather hurt, continue with the nightmares that don’t make sense, and be a sleep deprived Inferi that can’t cope with any frustration? That’s being unwise, Mrs. Weasley.” 

Molly took the kettle off the cooker. “I hate being weak. Sure, Arthur knows. But I don’t want to appear that way in front of my kids.” 

“I never took you for a fool, Molly Prewett.” Andromeda walked into the kitchen and sat down at the table. “You’re not weak for asking help. You’re not weak for taking the potions so you can have some semblance of normal in your life. It’s not weak sharing that you’re afraid, scared, and terrified to walk outside that door.” 

“My kids don’t need to know that!” Molly yelled back, throwing the scalding kettle away from the other women. “They don’t need to know that their Mother has a sodding fit when I open the backdoor. They don’t have to know that if Arthur steps outside to feed the chickens, I’m terror stricken. Merlin, it’s a wonder I don’t pass out when he steps out to his shed!” Molly collapsed into Arthur’s chair and put her head in her hands. “I hate being scared and afraid to take another breath for my heart bursting from fear. I hate that my kids aren’t home, here in the house with me every minute of the day, so I can keep breathing without feeling my chest seizing up. I absolutely despise that I’m made to feel that it’s OK that I take potions to help me cope right now. 

“I’m better than this. I’m stronger that what I feel. But I’m so bloody afraid.” 

“The potions are not a permanent measure, Mrs. Weasley. I never said they were or would be. Had you stayed like you were, before your daughter’s very risky actions, we’d be having a different conversation. You would be dependent on calming potions for the rest of your life. But now, these that I have for you, to help you cope and return to some form of a new normal, they will help.” “Molly,” Andromeda’s voice took on a softness that seemed a paradox from such severe features, “I took them for a year after Ted and Dora were murdered. I had no choice. Teddy couldn’t take care of himself and there was no one else who could help. I took them because that precious child needed me to change his nappies, give him a bottle, burp him and look after him. 

“What you call weak is strength taken too far. That’s foolish and you know it. Ginny’s not a newborn in need of constant care. It’s not 1981. It’s 2002 and your kids are out of the house. You have nothing to prove, to anyone. You, however, owe it to yourself to live again, or some semblance of living again, instead of hiding in this house, petrified of stepping outside.” 

“I’m not petrified,” she pouted. 

“Prove it. Step outside and show us it’s not true.” Andromeda sat up tall before pointing her wand at the back door, opening it onto the back yard. 

“No. You won’t manipulate me, not when I’m not ready.” Molly went to the other side of the kitchen to fetch the emptied kettle. 

“Then you are letting that sodding bastard intimidate you from his prison cell.” 

“He isn’t.” She refused to look at the other witch. 

“Yes he is. Just the thought of him has you anxious in this house, cowering in fear from stepping outside the confines.” 

“Would you begrudge a crutch to your children if they got hurt playing Quidditch? Would you begrudge your children potions if they were running a fever?” Audrey asked. 

“Never,” Molly hissed. 

Audrey held up the two vials in her hands. “Take them and we’ll revisit the potions again in three weeks, just like we agreed to in the hospital.” 

“I’m not my children. I should be able to cope with this, without those potions.” 

“Why are you expected to be like a Wizard and be bleeding to the point of dying before you’ll accept our help and care? Why are you so scared to let us take care of you, so you can get better?” 

“I can’t be weak,” Molly looked at her hands. “I just can’t.” 

“Your pride is going to kill you.” 

Molly looked up at Andromeda and her calm façade. 

“You are so afraid of needing anyone that you will kill yourself trying to look strong. No one who goes in a bloody oaken box says ‘ _I wish I had been stronger longer._ ’ They never say that, Molly, and neither should you.” Andromeda challenged her. 

“Are you saying I’m trying to kill myself? That’s bollocks.” Molly retorted. 

“I’m saying that your pride will keep people from helping you until it’s too late.” 

“That’s not true.” 

“Yes it is. The pride in your heart is screaming so loud, and demanding so much, that it’s overwhelming what your mind is telling you. Listen to those little voices, the ones that are begging your attention. Listen to them and let us help.” 

“We’ll revisit the potions in a month, which is dependent on how you are recovering. It won’t be overnight or even a fortnight. It’s going to take time, effort, and work on your part to get there. But my goal is to have you going out in public again, alone. That might take a year but my goal is to get you there.” 

Molly picked up the two vials into her hands and looked at them both. They were cork topped and covered in wax. “Who made them?” 

“I would never feed you anything with Veritiserum. I hate that it exists and is used on anyone.” 

“I’d give it to you,” Andromeda said sternly before cracking a small smirk. “Maybe. I’d let you think I did.” 

“And I’d pull my wand on you and make you pay for it.” 

Healer Reeves gave Andromeda a harsh look before softening her gaze. “Our Master Potioneer brewed them just for you. I watched him vial them and seal them. He made enough to last the month, if you follow the dosing protocols.” 

Andromeda threw her head back and laughed to crack the ceiling supports. “Now that’s the Molly I know. Now come on.” Andromeda held her hand out. “We’re getting some fresh air.” 

“No, I’m not ready.” 

“Rubbish, witch. You’re coming with me, and Audrey is joining us.” Andromeda kept her arm out. “I’m calling in your debt to me. Now get your bum up and come with me.” 

Molly reached out her hand – covered in wrinkles, liver spots, and veins from working with her hands her adult life. She reached the pale one with manicured fingers and felt the slight chill in the younger woman’s hand. “Not too far, please.” 

“Just outside into the January chill. Not far at all. Off the porch, for today, with us there with you.” 

The three of them went to the doorway and Molly shuddered. “This is terrifying.” 

“We know. But you’re not alone and you won’t be, for a long time.” 

Molly took a deep breath. She pulled open the door to go out back into the open area near her garden. It was covered in leaves for the spring planting along with magic for the spring harvest. Brave garden gnomes dug under the leaves, trying to find grubs or the wayward turnip that hadn’t been harvested. She didn’t pass the threshold of the door. 

“One step, Molly, and we’re outside on the porch.” 

“This is scary.” She stared at her feet, refusing to look up. 

“We know but you have to do this. It’ll be easier the next time you do this, with Arthur, or Audrey and Hermione.” 

“Why don’t you go out to the coop to get some eggs for fried eggs for brunch,” Audrey spoke up first. “We’ll come with you.” 

“And a few more eggs to make eggy bread,” Andromeda added. 

“No one likes my eggy bread.” Molly stayed frozen right inside the door. 

Audrey smiled at Andromeda. 

“Your grandchildren do,” Andromeda spoke clearly. 

Molly lifted her head from her feet, looking at the dormant grass of the back yard and looked out towards the gate of the property. Arthur was standing just inside the wards, talking to someone else while he was holding Victorie in his arms and Teddy holding onto his right hand. The other person was much shorter than he was, holding something bundled in their arms. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to go out and greet them?” Audrey asked gently. 

Molly pushed open the screen door and stepped onto the porch, keeping her hands firmly gripping it. 

Arthur turned and smiled brightly at his wife. “Molly, come out. There’s someone you’ll want to meet.” 

The cloaked figure turned and Molly saw Fleur waving at her, holding a colorful bundle in her arms. She waved again, encouraging Molly to come out and see them. 

“Fleur?” The lines of the cloak hung flat, where last week there was a prominent bump. “You had the baby?” 

“Maman, please.” 

Molly took her first quivering step off the porch. She shuddered violently and took another. Audrey and Andromeda stood alongside her, holding her elbows for support and comfort. Arthur and Fleur walked closer, breaching the gap between then. Victorie was on his hip, looking splendid in her winter cloak. 

Teddy let go of Arthur’s hand and ran to Molly. She reached down to lift him onto her hip, hoisting him up comfortably. 

“Gramma Mobby, meet baby! Baby pretty!” His hair started turning colors faster than he could control them. 

Molly threw her hand over her mouth. “Fleur!” 

Arthur walked up to his wife, giving her a quick peck on her cheek. Victorie gave a second one before blowing a raspberry at Teddy. 

He blew one back. 

Fleur stayed back slightly, still in front of Molly with the bundle in her arms. She used one of Molly’s hand-knitted baby blankets wrapped around the child inside her arms. 

“Maman, please?” Fleur stopped three paces away, waiting. 

Molly let Teddy slide down her hip and onto the ground, ignoring the fact that he went to Andromeda immediately and crawled up into her arms. She took another shuddering step, leaving Audrey, Andromeda, and Arthur behind her. She took another, seeing the vibrant smile on her daughter in law’s face. 

She took the last step forward, away from the family and towards her new granddaughter. “Silver plate,” Molly asked in badly spoken French. Fleur smiled brightly and handed over the quiet bundle in her arms. Fleur pulled back the top of it and side was a beautiful child, one with the enormous blue eyes and a small tuft of ginger hair. A bright orange knit hat covered the rest of her head. 

“Maman, this is Dominique.” 

Molly stood looking at the bundle of joy in her arms, shivering slightly. She smiled at the newborn in her arms before she even realized that it was the middle of January and she was outside in only her knitted cardigan. 

“Let’s get her inside. Everyone’s going to catch a death of cold out here,” She muttered before turning and taking the baby inside the house. She bypassed the kitchen for the warm den, settling into the couch. She lifted the top of the blanket away from Dominique’s face and saw that her cheeks were rosy red and quite healthy looking. 

The rest of the gathering came into the room, finding various places to sit. Arthur sat down next to Molly, leaning over and kissing her on the cheek while they both looked at the newest edition to the family. 

“You named her Dominique?” 

“Yes, Maman. Bill and I did. She’s named after ma mere’s second name.” 

Molly pulled back the blanket further and saw she was wearing a winter style onesie. 

“She has all her fingers and toes, muzzer. I cast a warming charm on her blanket you knitted for her, to keep her warm until we came into the house.” 

Molly sniffed loudly and wiped her eyes on her other sleeve. “When did you have her?” 

“Monday. Bill said not to owl since you were just home and the stress of coming back to the hospital would be too much.” 

Teddy crawled into Arthur’s lap while Victorie curled up with Fleur in Arthur’s chair. 

“I’m mad at you, Arthur. You know I’d have tried to make an effort to go see our newest Granddaughter. And I’m going to hex Bill for not telling us.” 

“Mrs. Weasley, you know that you wouldn’t have been anywhere ready then.” 

“Dear, Bill and Fleur made the decision. I didn’t have a say. That’s where Ron and Hermione, Harry and Ginny went that night. They went up to see Bill and Fleur at the hospital before returning here for the night. 

“‘ermione brought her hat for her to wear since it was cold outside.” 

“So when Bill and Fleur left the previous night,” Molly started rocking the baby in her arms. 

“They didn’t want to alarm you that she’d started having labor pains. So they went home for her bag and sent Victorie to stay with Andromeda for two days.” 

“I’m still mad that you didn’t tell me.” She looked at Arthur and saw him smiling. 

“Molly,” Arthur spoke up. 

“Muzzer, it went fast. I felt a sharp pain and three hours later, Dominque was here.” 

“We’ll talk about it later, dear. Just because I’m mad doesn’t mean I don’t understand. I do. I’m not well and it’s going to take time for me to get there, love.” 

Molly heard a slight whimper from her newborn granddaughter and adjusted the small treasure in her arms. Fleur handed over a drop cloth for her shoulder and Molly put Dominique on her shoulder, soothing her with soft words. 

“Audrey?” 

The other two witches looked Molly’s way. 

“I’ll take the potions with lunch. This,” she waved her hand around at the three children in the room with them, “this is worth rebuilding for. I can mourn later, in private, with my friends,” She smiled at Andromeda, Audrey and Fleur, and especially with Arthur, “and loved ones.” She took his hand and kissed his palm. “I will make the effort. This,” she lifted her encumbered arm slightly, “is worth the pain of healing. They need me.” She turned towards Arthur and smiled, seeing the anguish on his face. “You need me, to pick up the pieces and keep living.” 

“I do, love. I need you.” His look of affection, and anguish, was unmistakable. 

Molly snuggled into his hug. “We’ll get there, together, eventually." 

Fleur leaned over and kissed Molly on the cheek before going to the kitchen for a kettle for tea. “You sit with Dominique. I’ll make lunch. Quiche, anyone?”

* * *

_Climbing back to normality after trauma is much, much harder - it's harder to rebuild than to destroy._ \- JK Rowling


	22. If I may have your attention

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **A/N:** Ladies and Gentlemen, witches and Wizards… this is the final update and finale of this story. I want to thank those who read it, and who are waiting to read it; those who put it on alert, or favorited such. I want to thank those who left reviews and those who were impatient for the next chapter.
> 
>  
> 
> Finally… let me reiterate I’m not Jo and I don’t have the desire to possess a 2 day old baby Hippo. Dragons and kneazles are enough for me. - _DG_

* * *

Hermione rolled out of the bed at half five in the morning, listening to Ron snoring already. He’d come home from his overnight shift with the Aurors and fell on her like a pile of stones. Considering what day it was, she didn’t mind his hands waking her up in the most delightful of ways. He’d sleep well after getting a leg over for his birthday and she needed the wake-up shag to relieve the stress of starting her new position at the Ministry. 

Hermione picked up Ron’s pants, socks and vest and dropped them into the hamper next to their wardrobe. She put his trousers and jacket on the chair next to the hamper. Marriage hadn’t changed his habit of shedding his clothes wherever for her to tidy up. She had to admit that this morning, she wouldn’t complain. 

If there was a complaint, it was that she chose to be in at her new job an hour earlier than she normally arrived at work, and 2 hours before it was mandatory. Today was her first day working in Magical Law Enforcement. Until she had her paper and credentials – all that was left was writing a dossier of a case – she was an apprentice solicitor. Her official promotion to junior Solicitor would come in six weeks’ time since she was half-finished writing the final requirement on the test case she selected. 

Molly’s kidnapping and later problems demonstrated painfully that her time was finished in Regulation of Magical Creatures. She’d had a terrific run there, writing laws to protect House Elves as much as they wanted but also furthering protection and rights for Werewolves, Centaurs, and Goblins too. 

Now, though, her righteous indignation would be focused on a group that had no voice at all – victims of violence. Molly’s case and rescue, along with the time in the hospital, bolstered her decision. That next day, after she left Percy’s office and sent the request through the International Portkey office, she handed her CV to David Sutcliffe, who was the new Director of Solicitation for Law Enforcement. His predecessor, Ewan Purifoy, was voted in as Chief Mugwump for the Wizengamot. His predecessor, Fergus McAlister, was quietly retired over the debacle concerning the Weasley kidnapping. Kingsley demanded his resignation, along with two others, for leaving the Ministry unaided during the Christmas holidays including leaving the Aurors stranded. 

_“Granger, I’m glad to see you again. So have you decided to come to us?”_

_“I have. Someone has to speak up for the victims of violence. Someone has to fight for them, too.”_

_“Are you up to it, Granger? These aren’t House Elves you’d be fighting for. These are people you might find reprehensible, distasteful, even disgusting. Would you fight for them too?”_

_“You’ve obviously not seen me fight, have you Director Sutcliffe?” She didn’t mean it as a rhetorical question._

Hermione turned on the shower and felt the hot water washing away the fatigue of being awake since half four in the morning. A nice cup of tea would suffice until she got bogged down at the office on her first day in MLS and needed more to keep going. Last week, when she’d agree to start the following Monday, Seven am didn’t seem such a bad deal. 

But that didn’t include Ron coming home at half four and having a leg over, either. 

Not that she complained about his proclivities with her. Waking up with his hands on her in the most salacious ways was one of her favorites. Shagging her senseless and falling asleep was one of his. 

“Get a move on,” Hermione growled at herself. First impressions had to be made, along with jumping into cases that demanded her attention immediately. A spot of breakfast might be necessary, too. 

* * *

“Ah, Granger, nice to see you’re on the ball already. Excellent.” 

“Director Sutcliffe, I wasn’t expecting you until 9am.” 

“Well, cases don’t wait for idle hands, I reckon. I’m giving you one that needs your personal attention this morning.” 

“Already, sir? I’ve just settled into the desk and read through the morning minutes. What is so pressing of a case that demands my immediate attention?” 

The Director handed over a large dossier to her. “Open it,” he said quietly even though no one was around in the department yet. She did as he asked and her eyes went wide as saucers. “Sir, this is the Lestrange case. I’m just an apprentice Solicitor. I won’t be getting my certification until the end of the month.” 

“I already have need of you and you’re perfect for it, Granger.” 

Her brow furrowed and her eyes narrowed. “You’re setting me up for a potential failure, aren’t you? I wasn’t brought into this department, with the Minister’s full approval, just to lose a high profile case.” 

The Director leaned over the desk and frowned deeply, lett

ing the lines on his wizened face contort into an ugly shape. “Listen well, Granger, because I can’t repeat what I’m about to say, much less say it out loud.” 

She met his hard look with one of her own. “Yes, sir.” “You’re the _only_ one in this entire department who isn’t sympathetic, able to be blackmailed or bribed into letting him go. I have eight solicitors on staff, not counting a plethora of barristers and legal secretaries. Four of them, the ones who argue before the Wizengamot, are Purebloods who support Lestrange’s ideas and actions. They’ve privately admitted they’d throw the case to see him released. Three more, as well as most of the second chair barristers, are easily bribed, in regards to Lestrange. They are the covetous ones.” 

“And you, Sir?” 

The Director refused to speak. 

“Ah, yes sir. I understand.” 

“Officially, I am first chair for this case. However, you will be the one doing all the work. I realize it will look like we are trying to throw the case, by asking you, who you readily admitted was nothing more than an apprentice, to have as her first case. But you’re also the only one who I can trust to follow the law, to the letter, and not let this monster back out among the populace. I am a Pureblood but I don’t support what happened in the war or what this monster has done. I will be the face of it, but this is your case completely.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Theodore Nott, Sr. was my best friend, since childhood. I want that bastard put away for good. I’d have him tossed through the veil if it was still legal.” 

“I understand, sir.” 

“So, with everyone in here, we’re going to play politics. I’m going to disparage you constantly about this case but know I completely support you. It’s going to be a tough row to hoe, for your first case. I have to keep the Purebloods appeased too, the ones on the Wizengamot. I also have to protect my agenda, and you.” 

“I understand, sir.” 

“And,” he grunted, “if you do happen to lose the case, which I expect you won’t allow to happen, we can chalk it up to your inexperience before the Wizengamot.” 

“If I lost, which I won’t, it would be, politically, viable for you. It gives you an out if necessary, blaming me, but also knowing I’m the only one who can competently prosecute this case for the Wizengamot and before the Mugwump.” 

“You learn fast, Granger.” The Director stood back up and looked around the department. “Director Robards said you were a pain in the arse on this case, insisting that the Aurors follow the law on it, to the letter if possible. But he was the one who affirmed the Minister’s approval for your promotion. He said you were extremely competent, dutiful, knowledgeable of the law, and put up with his attitude. You were the only one besides Potter who he could respect in the department, getting things accomplished. Those are things I am looking for in you.” 

Hermione gave the Director a shrewd look. “I’m glad that my efforts were recognized by Director Robards. I was concerned he saw me only as a roadblock. But even when I was in Magical Creatures, I was still an officer of the court, even if I was only discussing non-humans. My duty is to the law.” 

“You realize his Solicitor is going to try everything possible to get him exonerated?” 

“Of course, sir. I expect no less. But he’s never faced me, has he?” 

“No, I doubt he has.” The Director looked around and saw a barrister coming into the department. His demeanor changed, to one of annoyance. “Merlin, first day and you caught a case. Don’t muck it up, Granger. Oh, and your secretary will be in shortly to assist you. I hired her last week since none of the others in the department will work for you. Treat her well because I can’t afford to waste precious payroll hours cycling through legal assistants to hold your hand. Finally, your barrister was hired Friday. They start in a fortnight.” 

“Yes, sir. And thank you, sir. I won’t mess up on my first day in the department.” 

“And don’t you forget it, Granger. You’re here because you were recommended. Don’t cock things up today. I’ll make you redundant if you muck things up.” 

“I’ll do my best, sir.” 

Director Sutcliffe stalked away from her desk. 

Hermione smiled to herself while she opened the vast dossier on Rabastan Lestrange and started digesting all of the reports regarding the case from his escape from Azkaban in 1995 until his capture two months prior. Inside the original files was an additional sheet of parchment, attached via a sticking charm. Hermione tapped it once and saw elegant penmanship on the slip of parchment. 

_Ms. Granger:_

_Director Sutcliffe asked that I help you, if necessary, to facilitate your prosecution. I found these inside a hollowed out book I was delving last month. If you need more, leave your requests in Records of a Muggleborn Minister, in the same section, and I will facilitate your request as I can. I will assist you but I cannot be seen helping you. I’m sure you understand how tenuous my position is._

_You were right, and I was wrong, that day. I look forward to working with you._

_Esmerelda Muggeridge_

Madame Muggeridge found the original arrest record and court depositions from his first two cases. She’d found them inside a Dark Magic book inside the Minister’s library last month. 

Hermione stilled her features but appreciated any assistance she would receive. “First day and they throw this case at me. What have I gotten myself into?” she said to no one in particular. 

She set to work on the first big case of her new career. 

* * *

Hermione’s first month in the department was nothing she wasn’t accustomed to or acquainted with. She’d finished her paper in record time and was awarded her certificate and license by the 15th of April. She’s received petty threats from the other solicitors and barristers in the department and ignored them. As she expected, Director Sutcliffe refused to put a stop to it. 

She spent countless hours researching every possible lead and location Lestrange had spent since the day at Hogwarts. Months passed and for every bit of information, she had to clear more charges with Director Sutcliffe. 

Finally, in July, and with Molly’s first testimony, they would be going to trial on the 2nd of September. It seemed almost fitting that they were starting on that particular day. 

The Friday before the case was to open, three drunks attacked Ron, in a feeble yet terrible kidnapping attempt. Their failed goal was to get her to relent on the case. They were arrested and turned evidence too. Fortunately Ron hadn’t been hurt and missed worse injury tripping on his size 12 boots. She traced the source of the conspirator to a junior member of the department of Magical Sports and had him arrested the next morning at his flat. 

His arrest made the afternoon edition, splashed on the front page of the Daily Prophet. Harry and Nigel Williamson dragging him out of his flat in his y fronts made the next day’s gossip in the ministry. 

Sunday afternoon, she was doing additional research in the Ministry and in the Minister’s library when a man dressed in black robes sealed the private library and assaulted her viciously. He threatened to murder her but she fought back, pulling her black walnut wand from her arm and stunning him. Ron arrived to make the arrest and discovered a terrible problem. 

After Director Robards took over, Ron took her to the healers and they released her from their care without repairing the injuries to her face. 

She said it would be needed for her case the next day. 

* * *

Director Sutcliffe sat at the Ministry solicitor’s chair, officially as first chair for the proceedings but making no action to present the case. Instead, Hermione stepped into the court and addressed the gathering. 

“Witches and Wizards of the Wizengamot, Chief Mugwump, esteemed guests,” Hermione spoke up. Furious whispers bounced around the cavernous room, each questioning what Director Sutcliffe was playing. 

“We are here today to provide evidence and give testimony to the actions of the accused, one Rabastan Lestrange, for his violence and notorious actions towards Wizardingkind these last few years.” 

Whispers continued around the room, almost deafening her opening statement. 

“Director Sutcliffe cannot present this case due to a conflict of interest. But to appease the court, I will have him present, to afford any advice concerning my work.” 

The room muted at her words. 

Hermione stood before the Mugwump in her chosen court attire – tailored purple robes. The color was intentionally picked: the members of the Wizengamot had to take her seriously since she was an Order of Merlin, First class. Not even Director Sutcliffe had that kind of clout, considering his advanced age. 

Fleur whisked her away for a long weekend in Paris for purchasing tailored robes. She had to make a statement for her first case in the Wizengamot. Fleur pointed out emphatically that most who sat on the Wizengamot now sat out the fighting and were impotent old men who sat in judgement and weathered storms while sipping their Elf made wines. 

She needed to look the part – competent, relentless, fearless – and deserving of her place inside the court. 

Fleur was right, as usual, about a great many things. 

What Hermione didn’t know was that she would chose to keep a black eye and severe contusions on the side of her face. She looked a mess but her injuries from a little case of assault and attempted murder distract her from presenting the opening of the trial. 

Her attacker was Frank Cooper, chief of staff for the Mugwump and long-time member of the Wizengamot. He would be prosecuted next, for attempted murder, assaulting an Officer of the court, impersonating another person in the course of assault, and High Treason – for impersonating James Richardson, who is the sitting English Director of International Wizarding Confederation. 

His seat stayed vacant and the others gathered in the Wizengamot took note of their missing colleague while trying to ignore what happened to him. 

“Chief Mugwump, I present, before Wand and Crown, the following charges against the wizard Rabastan Lestrange…”

She charged him with Molly’s kidnapping. She charged him with illegal Veritiserum possession, 24 counts, as well as administering potions without a license, among other charges relating to Molly, specifically. Hermione charged him with the murder of Auror Jasper Smythe, along with 12 additional counts of Murder most foul, for killing Purebloods without charge or reason. She charged him with the murder of Benjy Fenwick. His cryptic words were figured out a month after his admission. His parents, Issac and Sarah Fenwick, thanked Harry personally for finally helping bring the rest of their son home after being mostly missing for 30 years. 

She charged him with more fatalities due to his wand and other actions while fighting at Hogwarts the night of the 1st and 2nd of May, 1998. 

Each Wizarding fatality was entered into the record, and family statements would be forthcoming during the trial. 

The presenting of the remaining charges took almost the remaining part of the day’s proceeding. 

“Wizard and Witches, ladies and Gentlemen of the gathering, I shall present my case before the Wizengamot, proving every charge that has been laid before this court. On the first charge, the kidnapping of Molly Weasley, I request Molly Weasley to present her testimony to this legal body.” 

“The Wand and Crown calls Molly Weasley to the chair,” Minister Shacklebolt bellowed out. 

All eyes of the court turned towards the right side of the room. Molly stood up from her chair, wearing new robes, and slowly made her way down the steps to the chair. Lestrange was manacled to his chair on the other side of the room, well away from Molly. 

“Ah, it’s Little Molly, the breeding traitor harlot. They begged you to testify didn’t they? Your words mean nothing to me, witch. You are a woman and unworthy of being here.” 

Molly stared forward, sliding comfortably into the chair. She sat up with rigid posture, facing Hermione and Kingsley in the chamber. 

“For the record, please state your name.” 

“Molly Prewett Weasley.” 

“Mrs. Weasley, if you would, please detail the 3rd of January for us, as best as possible, in reference to the defendant in the room.” Hermione looked up from Mrs. Weasley’s steely gaze. “Let me remind the Wizengamot that her medical testimony was submitted for viewing and is dictated into the record, but will not be made public due to the sensitive nature of this case. Solicitor Abercrombie has witnessed her medical testimony via Pensive and found it acceptable.” 

“Duly noted, Solicitor. Please continue,” Kingsley spoke up. 

For the next four hours, Hermione questioned her on the day in question, some of which were painful yet necessary. She delved into every corner that affected the Wizengamot case, leaving nothing unturned. 

Molly answered every one of them, refusing to acknowledge the monster on the other side of the room. His pithy quips were left unanswered. She never flinched, shuddered, shivered or cowered from Hermione’s questions. Each question asked of her was answered in a clear voice, free of potions, and reinforced with her own steel will. 

“That’s all my questions, Your Honor.” 

Kingsley stood at the lectern. “Mr. Abercrombie, your witness.” 

“We have no questions for Mrs. Weasley. She has answered everything we would ask on our examination.” The solicitor glared at Hermione. She returned his glare with frozen contempt. 

Molly stood from her chair and turned towards Lestrange shackled in his chair. She walked over to him, looking at him leering at her. “Come for a tickle, Mummy?” 

She stood facing him, for once the same height since his chair was magically held to the floor. Soft noises rattled around the room, with wands being withdrawn from holsters and wand pockets. 

"You're not worth the effort it would take to slap you. You're pathetic and I won’t waste another moment of my life on you.” 

Molly turned and walked away towards her waiting family. 

“Wizengamot, we will reconvene in the morning. At that time, we shall call our next witness.” 

At half six the next morning, Hermione was approached by a well-dressed man from the International Portkey department in the lift, offering her platitudes and a large envelope. Inside it was a letter of credit, worth two thousand galleons, if she would throw the case. 

He shoved it in her hands and departed when the lift opened. 

The case reconvened at 9am sharp. She saw the bribing official in the stands of the Wizengamot, smugly smiling. “The court would like to have Marcus Fletcher arrested immediately, on the charge of bribing an officer of the court. He forced on this solicitor a letter of credit, concerning two thousand galleons, in exchange for sabotaging this case.” 

There was a scramble in the stands as the accused attempted to run but couldn’t escape the ten wands that turned on him. 

He was summarily carted off in magically conjured ropes. 

Hermione took a drink of water and a deep breath before resuming the case. “The Ministry calls Auror Harry Potter to the stand.” 

The case continued, but not without complications. Three more attempted to bribe her, with even larger letters of credit from Gringott’s. They were arrested on Friday, at the same time and charged with attempted bribery of an officer of the court. Their absence the following Monday in the Wizengamot made even more waves. Their seats were left vacant for the case but put a fine point on her capabilities. 

The case continued for an additional nine days, with testimony from everyone who was affected on all 90 charges presented against Rabastan Lestrange. Kreacher and Lestrange’s elves were protected testimony, sworn to the Wizengamot with Solicitor Abercrombie’s acknowledgement. Their testimony would never be given out to the public and only for the Mugwump’s eyes only. 

Hermione meticulously tracked his movements for the following three plus years, tracing his path from Germany into Greece and back to rural France before he returned to England. She let the facts of the case speak for her outrage towards him. 

She pointed out, via his written word, at the bloodshed and atrocities he committed, against humankind. The blood on his wand was vast and widespread, and she brought each fatality upon his head. 

Her words carried her passion while her demeanor was ice cold. She offered only stoic looks his way any time she saw him from her position on the floor. 

The chamber was packed to standing room only. Harry and Ron were there every day while she presented the case. Director Robards attended as he could. Bill and Fleur attended when someone could keep the children for the day. Percy attended when he had breaks in his own work. George was present in the mornings but not in the afternoons. 

Lestrange and his solicitor kept their attacks to the open court, trying to find every conceivable flaw and weakness in her presentation of the case. But then she’d anticipated every move, courtesy of Ron’s thinking and Director Sutcliffe’s experience. Every possible issue by the Aurors was countered that the Wizengamot was out of session at the time of the kidnapping, and that there were no Solicitors on staff at the time to offer guidance to the Aurors. She presented her issues before the Wizengamot, including that the Mugwump and three subsequent officials of the court, were out of the country at the time of the kidnapping and couldn’t offer counsel either, or expedite Auror abilities to rescue Mrs. Weasley. 

Instead of emotional appeals, she argued the facts. She presented indictments, against the MLS of which she was working, along with failures of the Aurors, and even the Ministry, in failing to capture Rabastan Lestrange until the morning of the 6th of January, 2002. 

She argued the law, that a Pureblood had better standing in breaking the laws before the world changed, but now said that the Laws had to apply equally, from Pureblood to squibs, and everyone in between. 

“And that, witches and Wizards, ladies and Gentlemen of the Wizengamot, is why you should find Rabastan Lestrange guilty on all charges. The Wand and Crown rest their case.” 

Hermione stepped back from her lectern on the floor of the Wizengamot and turned. Her eyes caught Director Robards, sitting next to Director Sutcliffe. They gave her a nod of approval and Gawain mouthed, _Great Job, Granger._

She smiled slightly before turning her attention to his left. The Weasley family was seated in the middle of the front row of the stands, with Molly and Arthur in the middle. Ron flanked them on the left, with Harry and Ginny on the right. Andromeda was present, sitting behind Molly, with Audrey and Percy next to her. 

Molly mouthed _thank you_ before wiping her face. She leaned into Arthur and he squeezed her tight. 

_You’re welcome._

* * *

_Four days later…_

“Members of this body, have you reached a verdict?” 

“We have. We, the Wizengamot, find Rabastan Lestrange guilty on all but one charge.” The Mugwump looked at the gathering body. Almost all present eyes affirmed the decision. 

“And the one charge of which he is not convicted by this legal body is, sir?” Kingsley looked across the gathering to regard the Mugwump. 

“He was not convicted of Cruelty to a House elf, Charge number 89 you presented to this body. The Solicitor for the Ministry failed to prove this charge to this body.” 

“Yes, sir. Very good sir.” Hermione knew that the cruelty charge was the only stretch charge. Kreacher was told to iron his hands and he refused to do it, but wrapped them and whimpered like Harry told him to. She couldn’t get the other elves to affirm Lestrange’s mistreatment of them during his stay the last few years. 

Hermione stepped back and awaited the immediate sentencing of the convicted criminal. 

“Rabastan Lestrange, please stand.” 

Lestrange, dressed in odious orange and black stripes, stood, manacled to the immobile chair behind him. 

“Who informed you that your acts of murder most foul were anything but unspeakable? Where do you think that you have the absolute right to cause mayhem in our fledgling society? Your acts of cowardice are revolting. You are not above the law and neither is anyone else. We, as a legal body, do not recognize your acts as anything but notorious and loathsome.” Lestrange tried to open his mouth to protest but was silenced with a stern look. “Your carnage has brought our way of life to the brink. You are a disgrace to Wizarding kind and a blight on humanity. Society will be safer with you Azkaban for the rest of your remaining existence.” 

Kingsley looked around the chamber and saw some faces nodding in acceptance, and others hiding their thoughts. 

The Chief Mugwump pointed his wand at his throat. “We, the Wizengamot, find you guilty on all remaining charges. We, the Wizengamot, sentence you to incarceration in Azkaban prison for the rest of your natural life. Your wand has been snapped and you are to be remanded immediately. We, the Wizengamot, banish you from our society, for the rest of your days.” 

Kingsley stood tall, wearing his own shade of purple robes. “Does the defendant have anything further to say before we never hear from you again?” 

Lestrange lifted his chin in defiance of everyone present. He looked around the room, staring at all the faces who were witnessing his incarceration. Some met his stare head on while others refused to acknowledge his existence. He saved his rancor for the Weasleys last, staring at Molly while trying to smile at her. She glared at him worse than she had when she was fighting Bellatrix to the death. 

He blew her a fake kiss before moving his attention slightly to her husband, sitting to her right. Lestrange stared for seconds but Arthur refused to cower from his antagonist. Lestrange snorted in apparent disgust. 

He turned back towards the Mugwump and Minister at the front of the docket. 

“Cowards, all of you. I do not recognize the authority of this court. There are those present who are not worthy to judge me. This legal body is tainted with mud of those who are less than noble to judge me. Furthermore, you disappoint me because I know I’m right. I expected much better things from a gathering of Purebloods. But I see that the taint is strong here, with a foul Mudblood prosecuting me for crimes which are not criminal. The Pureblood traitors,” He turned again towards Arthur and Molly on the front row. “I won’t forget what you did to me, Little Molly. You will only be safe when I’m dead.” 

“Do you have anything relevant to say to this court before you are removed permanently?” 

“I do. I have plenty to say. This body is nothing but sodding traitors. You dare send me to Azkaban for doing your dirty work then claim I am a criminal? I am righteous in my task. You know I am. Our kind needs to cleanse and purge the corruption from our midst if we are to survive, to thrive at our rightful place in Wizardingkind. Instead, you bring those who are nothing more than animals – “

“Bailiff, remove this convict from my sight. I never want to hear from him again.” The gathering watched the thrice convicted criminal be led away in his magically enchanted chains. 

“No, I refuse to be silenced. You’ll pay for this treason. Mark my words!” The door to the holding room sealed behind him and his voice was cut off. 

“By order of the Minister and Mugwump, you’re excused. Thank you for your time.” 

Hermione took a deep breath before making her way to her family. Ron got to her first and spun her around in a powerful hug before a quick kiss on the lips. Harry was beside her, alongside Ginny, laughing and hugging her too. They parted to make way for the important two in the room. 

Arthur came up and hugged her first, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “You were fantastic.” He stepped away for Molly. 

“The nightmare is finally over,” She muttered. Molly wiped her face again, wrinkling her handkerchief further. 

“I promised you I would send him away for good.” 

“You made good on that promise,” Molly smiled, tears streaming down her face before hugging Hermione just as powerfully as Ron did. 

“Thank you for giving me my life back.” 

“Ah, Mrs. Weasley. Tell us what you are thinking, now that your kidnapper is once again incarcerated?” 

The family turned to regard the blonde haired witch in sapphire robes, quill hovering over the parchment, standing entirely too close for Molly’s comfort. 

“I’m thinking that if I ever see you again it will be entirely too soon.” Molly hissed. “Get away from me, you hag.” 

Arthur draped an arm around her shoulder and escorted Molly past the pain in the arse reporter for the Daily Prophet. 

“Ms. Skeeter,” Hermione sneered, “If you want the family’s statement, please make an appointment with my secretary. I will be glad to discuss the case with you,” Hermione shoved past the witch with Ron glaring before the rest of the family filed out. “because that’s the only information you will potentially receive.” 

Ron and Hermione departed after Molly and Arthur. 

“And you, Mrs. Potter, do you have a few words for this intrepid reporter?” 

Ginny smiled and stepped very close to the older witch. She offered her answers, in vile and extremely crass terms, what Rita could do with her parchment, quill, and purse in her possession. 

The remaining four Weasleys departed, leaving Rita Skeeter speechless. 

* * *

Arthur followed his wife into their bedroom and closed the door. All of their children had moved out years before but he couldn’t change the habit of keeping the bedroom door closed. Molly, though, had been quiet since the trial ended earlier in the day. 

He’d felt a huge weight off his shoulders. Hermione had been unyielding in the prosecution of the case, going after everyone who had a failing, not including her husband and best friend. She’d informed everyone in the family, as well as the Minister, what she was going to do. 

It was hard to hear every single failing on the part of the Ministry, but it also removed so much of the potential weaknesses in the prosecution to convict Molly’s kidnapper. 

The only ones spared from her pointed criticism were himself and Molly. 

Her plan was brilliant but he expected no less. 

Arthur took off his jacket and tie before placing them over his chair. The water turned on in their small bathroom. Molly was getting ready for bed, in the bathroom once again. Since she came home from the hospital in January, she had been reticent to show any vulnerability to him. Audrey explained that it would take months, plenty of patience, and much love on his part, to get her comfortable again with people. Touching would be only on her terms and only when she was ready. 

Charlie learned that the hard way the first week she was home and he startled her. Percy repaired Charlie’s broken nose and cleaned the mess off his attire while he attended Molly and her fit in their bedroom. 

She didn’t come out of their room for 2 days. 

Only the grandkids could coax her out. They were the only ones she could look at, and touch. It had been months since she’d offered any sort of physical affection. Kisses were out. She’d startle if he touched her hand before she noticed. 

He’d spent the last few months reading or tinkering in his shed. He spent quite a bit of time tinkering in his shed or working over at the office. 

He finished undressing, laying his slacks on the chair. The shoes went into the closet and the socks in the hamper, leaving him in a vest and pants. The weather broke a week ago and the house was cooler but not comfortable enough to put on his nightshirt that Molly made for him. 

He lifted the bedclothes and slid in, intending to read the book he started last week. Hermione purchased it for him some time ago but he only cracked it last week and was immediately enthralled. Only she would take the time to order a book on how airplanes stayed up in the air. The history was fascinating and a joy to read. Muggles were so fascinating in how they made advances without magic. 

Molly’s distance from him hurt more than he would ever admit to anyone. Audrey knew. Ron knew. Heck, probably all his kids knew. But they couldn’t help Mollywobbles heal any faster. 

The only thing she needed was time. 

“Arthur,” 

He looked up from his book and saw her standing in the doorway of their loo. She was wearing a new nightgown and looking rather fetching. 

“Put down the book, love.” 

He closed it and put it on his side table, completely ignoring that it slipped and fell with a thud onto the floor. “Mollywobbles,” He drank in the sight of his wife like a beggar dying of thirst and receiving a chalice of cold water. “Love?” 

She gave him a look that meant _I know what I am doing._

Arthur quit talking. 

He watched her blow out the candles in the room, leaving one slowly burning on her bedside table. He watched her move, refusing to break the spell over their bedroom. 

She slipped into the bed, between the bedclothes and slid in close to him. 

“Molly?” 

“I need to do this. I have to show you how much you mean to me.” 

“You weren’t ready. Audrey told me that I needed to be patient, and loving, and gentle.” 

“It’s been months, love.” 

“You already do, every single day. I’m the lucky bloke you married.” 

Molly pointed her wand over her shoulder and extinguished the candle on her table. 

“I am ready, now. Hermione put the monster away, for good this time.” 

“We don’t have to, dear. I’ll wait as long as –”

“Hush, my silly husband. I know what I need. Tonight, for the first time in months, know what I want. And what I want is you.” 

* * *

_Finis_


End file.
